The Pilgrimage
by Camilla10
Summary: AD 1353. After the end of the Black Death a handsome but too pale monk is leading a group of pilgrims to Saint Marcus shrine, near Volterra. Not everybody in his flock is innocent, though. Will the pilgrims, and the fake monk, find love or death at the end of their journey?
1. Chapter 1 Confession

**The Pilgrimage, by Camilla10**

Summary:AD1353. After the end of the Black Death an handsome but too pale monk is leading a group of pilgrims to Saint Marcus shrine, near Volterra. Not everybody in his flock is innocent, though. Will the pilgrims find love or death at the end of their journey?

This is a Pre Twilight AU story. It is rather dark and there are no Edward and Bella, obviously. Feel like reading it all the same? I hope so, because I promise you a passionate love story, despite the setting. The rating is M, for violence, sex and, just in one case, slash.

Story notes:

I have to thank the pre readers who, at different times, joined the pilgrimage: Raum, Aleea b4u, Serendipitous, Maniac Motherland, Miaokuancha and JMolly. Do check their stories out. My incomparable final editor is Stefanie, The Hobbit Ivy.

Stephenie Meyer owns a few characters used here and the mythology. The rest is mine.

The Pilgrimage will be told in the third person, past tense. But not the omniscient third person: names in a parenthesis will indicate what character the story is focusing on in that specific chapter or part of a chapter.

When published as an O/S, the prologue won an Emerging Swan Award for Best Original Character (Bonizella).

Chapter 1 Prologue: Confession.

So, OK, we start in the middle, in medias res as the Romans said, and then we will go back….

_Italy, 1353 - Castle of Petrina, Val d'Era, Dioceses of Volterra._

**(Bonizella)**

She was so tired. Tired of travelling on foot, tired of showing devotion, tired of having to lie every single moment of her life. But there was nothing for it; she had to continue along the path she had chosen. At least they had finally arrived at their destination, the monk had said. Yes, the monk, Adso, a dirty faggot, not anything else. She had seen how he looked all the time at that simpering, girly youth, Aligi.

The famous holy relic that they had come to worship was kept in the castle's chapel. As Volterra was not deemed safe enough for it during the present troubled times, it had been moved here by the monks of the Order of San Marcus, the building itself being the property of the Bishop. Of course, the protection worked both ways. The relic appeared to have great power, apparently, as none of the monks died during the plague.

Well, good for them, thought Bonizella, who felt quite smug for having survived the plague herself, with no relic and no prayers. The pestilence had taken away her husband's son from the first wife, and his sickly family too, but he, Baccio, her husband, had survived, and he had wanted another son, a heir. That had been the problem…

Her musings were interrupted by Brother Adso, who had come to tell her to prepare for her confession.

"The Reverend Abbot will receive your confession himself. It is a great honor," he said, indicating she should walk with him. Bonizella would have dispensed with such honor, but could only follow. In fact, only after a full confession and absolution would the pilgrims be allowed to see Saint Marcus' hand in its golden case and kiss it.

Yes, Saint Marcus, the Roman soldier who had chased the creatures of the night from Volterra. Vampires, no less_. And how do you exactly chase vampires?_ she wondered. Of course, later on, Marcus was martyrized, due to his conversion to Christianity. He was burned, but his right hand - the one which probably accomplished the vampire chasing miracle - had refused to burn and had been thereafter preserved for generations by the faithful. So, at least, the legend said.

Now… her confession, she sighed, following the monk along the silent corridors. She would never confess what she had done. But would her confessor believe her, if she had nothing serious to tell him? A trip like this was not reasonable to make, unless one needed the most profound form of absolution. Maybe she could confess fornication. That was believable and, after all, it was what priests most wanted to hear from a woman, and a beautiful woman at that, as she knew she was. In that way they could feel vicariously the pleasure that was denied to them.

Denied only in theory, of course. Bonizella wondered briefly if confessors masturbated after having elicited dirty details from their penitents. Then she lost herself in her own sweet memories. Ah, Lapo. Handsome, tall and strong, pleasuring her like her husband had never been able to. She had seduced him easily, the only problem being to keep their liaison a secret, because Lapo had fallen head over heels in love with her and could not control himself anymore. That had been the reason why she had left for the pilgrimage, humbly, on foot, with only a maid and a male servant to escort her. Lapo had been the only pleasant thing in her life for a while, but she needed him to stay far from her now, in the first months after she had become a widow. If people suspected they had been lovers before her husband died, they might also wonder if Baccio's death hadn't been too convenient. But Lapo, like one of his stallions, could barely restrain himself… and so she had been forced to leave on her journey.

Brother Adso had reached a closed door and had stopped, glancing at her over his shoulder.

"Please, enter and wait here," he said, opening the door. "Dom Aro will be with you as soon as he is free."

He put a small oil lamp on the table and left, shutting the door behind him. The room had the look of an unused cell, stark and bare. A wooden pallet with no mattress, a simple desk with a chair, a crucifix on the wall and a tiny window, with the shutters closed. There was also a kneeler and nothing else, apart from the lamp and a skull on the table. _Memento Mori._

The empty orbs of the skull seemed to look at her and Bonizella shivered. She realized that the room was very dark and very cold, the oil lamp barely dispelling the shadows surrounding her. She shivered again. _Somebody has just walked over my grave_, she thought. No, she would not allow herself to be scared. She went down on the kneeler and shut her eyes, to compose herself. Besides, it would look good if the Abbot found her praying.

Once again, she let her mind wander. The meeting with Adso had been a Godsend, she reflected. Both the priest who was leading them and her escort had fallen ill—not the plague again, fortunately —so they were stranded in San Galgano's guest quarters and could not continue their pilgrimage. But then the young monk had arrived, with a small party of his own and had proposed to those who were willing to continue, that they go along with him to a holy place much nearer than their original destination.

Like others, she had agreed immediately, and left her maid to take care of the sick man who was supposed to protect her. So she was alone now, and good riddance to them. There were other women in the pilgrims' group and she was, after all, a respectable widow. Plus, her pious intention to continue the pilgrimage despite the difficulties would surely enhance her reputation as a devout and righteous woman.

And now, they had arrived. Already a small number of her fellow pilgrims had gone to confession before her. She had not seen them afterward, as they were going to wait in an underground chapel, doing their penance and fasting. In the morning, they would worship the holy relic, assist to a High Mass, take communion and finally, hopefully, have their breakfast. Fortunately, she had had her lunch that day, at least. A generous one. The monks here were not stingy like the ones of other monasteries they had stayed in.

She opened her eyes again, but the darkness was very oppressive, so she let her lids close again. Unbidden memories of her lover taunted her. Carnal memories that were not appropriate to the moment. Lapo' shaft inside her, his unrelenting thrusts… his hands caressing her everywhere, touching her in all the forbidden places…

She felt wet, hot and bothered and fought against the sensations. It would not do if her confessor found her flushed and distracted.

There was a soft rustle of cloth and she opened her eyes again. A man, or better, a monk, was sitting at the table now. Oh, this must be the Abbot. An ageless face with very dark pupils, pale skin and elegant hands, clasping each other on the table. She noticed the enormous ruby adorning one of them. He proffered his hand to be kissed.

She raised respectfully and took his hand, lowering her head to kiss the stone of his ring. His skin was deadly cold, but then again, so was the room.

"Father, forgive me because I have sinned" Bonizella murmured, kneeling again.

The Abbot freed his head from the cowl. Surprised, she noticed that his hair was not tonsured. Straight and jet black, it was tied down on the nape of his neck. Well, maybe Abbots were not obliged to follow the Rule and, come to think of it, alsoBrother Adso was not tonsured, albeit his hair was short. Strange Order. The Abbot's robe was black like the other monks'. But, where theirs were a rough homespun, his was made of the finest wool. Like velvet, almost. A golden cross rested on his breast.

After the usual question about the time elapsed from her last confession, it was time to tell him something. With the appropriate show of reluctance, she admitted to sexual intercourse with a man after she was widowed, wondering if he was going to ask for details and uncertain if she should satisfy his prurient curiosity or not.

He surprised her instead with his response.

"Daughter, look at me," he said sternly. "You know that to lie to your confessor is a mortal sin. When did this young man become your lover?"

She looked and she was captured, like a mouse by a snake. His obsidian pupils bore into hers. Still, she wouldn't speak.

"How did you met him?" the Abbot insisted.

"He is our stable keeper," she answered, because this track seemed safer.

"A stable hand?" His smooth voice was full of disdain.

Offended that he would think she could sink so low, Bonizella reacted out of pride. Knowing full well that the less she told him, the better, still she tried to explain herself.

"No, we… I mean, my husband, kept a large stock of pure breed horses, not just to use, but to sell. He... yes, this young man, he was the overseer. He went to fairs and markets. He took care of everything…"

"And your husband, undoubtedly, trusted him. When did he discover he was your lover?"

Damn him, he knew… he knew. How was this possible?

"No, no, he did not know… then he got sick.."

Hell, she had admitted that her liaison had begun not when she was already a widow, but before. An adulteress, she had just admitted to having been an adulteress. But the fact that her husband at a certain point had known or suspected it? No, this secret had to stay concealed, because it was the reason why she….

But the confessor was unrelenting.

"Of course, my child, adultery is a much worse sin than just intercourse out of wedlock. Why did you commit it? Was it just lust, or... perhaps something more?"

She wanted to raise and run from the cell. But she couldn't. If this went on much longer she would spill everything.

"No…yes... of course. Lapo is handsome and strong…"

"Young, handsome and strong. A very good choice for fathering your child… to provide a heir to your husband, I suppose."

Satan take him! How did he know? He seemed to know everything.

"Well, that would not hurt anyone, surely, the gift of a child?" she admitted. "Baccio desired an heir after the plague took his son by his first wife and his grandchildren. But… he was not the man he was before. He had caught the mumps from his wife, who had died of it. Doctors don't know anything," Bonizella could not prevent herself from snorting in contempt. "But wise women know that if an adult male gets the mumps, he is unlikely to father children afterwards. So we were childless. I know that what I did was wrong, but a baby would have made Baccio so happy."

Here now: she had managed to paint herself as a loving wife, somehow. Sinning, yes, but only to give her husband his heart's desire.

But such was not to be. The Abbot rose to his feet, towering over her kneeling form, his voice like thunder.

"Beware, woman, you are mocking God and this Sacrament. So, you keep the company of 'wise women'? There is the stake, for witches!"

Now, truly terrified, Bonizella needed to divert his mind from this dangerous path. Whatever she had done, she had never tried the black arts, never. She did not believe in magic, basically, whether it be black or white.

"No, no, never that. I swear upon the Holy Cross, Father," she cried.

"Fine, I'll believe you, but you are walking on a very narrow path, 'daughter'," he taunted her. "From now on, not even the smallest lie must pass you lips."

He sat down again and Bonizella nodded her head in response.

"An admission to committing the sin of adultery purely for the husband's sake is a rare event, indeed. I wonder if you weren't afraid that he would get rid of a barren wife?"

Her temper once got the better of her. Unwisely.

"Yes, yes, too true!" she spat. "Rich men can always find a way to bend the Church's rules, can they not? He would work his will to have our marriage annulled, and try his luck with younger flesh. I… I could not accept it."

"Be careful of how you speak of the Church. But, at least you are telling the truth. I know it. I feel it."

She relaxed. Maybe he would release her now, with a heavy penance. And eventually she could go back and be in Lapo's arms.

"But you have more to tell me, don't you?" the Abbot continued."Let me help your memory, then. So, you were not getting pregnant, and maybe one day your husband saw you slipping out of a room where you had no reason to be. I suppose it went like that. He suspected and would soon confront you with your actions, you feared. "

Damn, him, damn him. He knew everything, could he read her mind? Now she truly had to lie, or she was undone. But she was not given the time to add anything, because the confessor continued.

"You were in a dangerous situation, indeed. I can well see that. So what did you do then?"

She remained obstinately mute, her head lowered.

"It is impossible for you to suppress forever the need of confessing your sin, my child. And, even if you do not speak, I know of your actions. They are so predictable. Let us see: your husband was a glutton, and very fond of mushrooms, wasn't he? Mm, very dangerous things, mushrooms. One must know them well, because a mistake is so easy to make. So easy to mix a poisonous one in with the others. This is why, personally, I never eat them."

At that point, Bonizella lost her senses and collapsed to the floor.

When she recovered, after a few moments, her ears rumbling, she was sitting on the pavement. The Abbot was kneeling at her side, keeping her upright, with an amused expression on his face. _Amused?_ she wondered to herself. _Why amused?_

And to think that she had been so careful, so careful. She had found the _amanita_ herself, and kept it concealed. When a small basket of _porcini_ was brought to her house by a farmer, she ordered them cooked and then slipped the bad one into the saucepan when nobody was looking. Then she had professed herself unwell, declined her supper and gone to bed early. Baccio was indeed a glutton - she knew that he would eat them all. And since he was prone to colic and other ailments, and was not young, nobody had considered it too strange, when in the morning he was found dead. The cook, having prepared the mushrooms, had been particularly loud in her affirmation that he had died of indigestion, as he surely ate always too much. The merchant did not share a room with his wife, because he snored, he just visited her sometime, so that also had helped to free her from suspicions.

However, this demon in monk's robes knew everything, somehow. Probably,hewas in league with the Devil. Indeed, he probably was a_ stregone_. But fear wouldn't get her anywhere now, and so she continued to recount her tale of sin.

"Yes, I poisoned my husband, because I was afraid of what would happen to me and to Lapo," she said. "There, I have admitted it. But you, 'Father', must keep secret what you hear in confession. Otherwise your sin would be worse than mine."

At this last outburst, the Abbot laughed, but the mirth did not reach his eyes.

"Feisty, aren't you? Have no fear. What has passed here will remain here. Forever. But now, we must discuss your penance." And then he tore at her dress.

It came apart like gauze under his hands and her throat and breasts were exposed. _Oh that,_ she sighed, _just that_. Intercourse. If that was all he wanted, well, that was easy. Repulsed as she was by him, she still could do it. He was just a man, after all, like any other man,

But he surprised her once more. No lecherous hands palming her breasts. No greedy fingers grasping her waist or hips. Nothing of the sort. He was… sniffing her.

"Oh, how good was the choice of you as my penitent. I have rarely been so entertained, and you smell wonderful, my dear. So, I'll be generous and make it quick."

He opened his mouth wide and his white teeth glistened.

Endnotes

Reviews? Oh please. I am so nervous posting a story without the well known and beloved usual characters. Please, encourage me.

I postulate that at a certain point during the Middle Ages it made sense for Aro and his coven to masquerade as monks, a status that would grant them power and protection. There were fewer women in the Volturi ranks at the time but, for female vampires in the coven, a nunnery would do (maybe with an underground passage…)

The name Castle of Petrina, quoted only once in an ancient chronicle is not identified with historical accuracy. Not far from Volterra there were a number of similar castles, controlled by the Dioceses. I choose Petrina exactly because its story is obscure.

The Volturi feed on tourists, don't they? Well, pilgrimages were the only form of tourism known at that age, the only chance for people not of the aristocracy to see a little of the world. Not everybody could go to Jerusalem, Rome or Santiago of Compostela, though, so many choose nearer destinations. The endeavor was motivated by devotion and atonement, mostly, but I can easily imagine a wife telling her husband "I made a vow, I have to go on a pilgrimage for this and this reason…" in this way she saved herself from another pregnancy for a while, and got rid of a vexing spouse, for a while… Bonizella, however, had her own special reasons for going, as we have seen.

Bonizella is a name still current in the Province of Siena. The Blessed Bonizella Piccolomini lived a little before the events and was (still is) very revered. The name of the young vampire-monk, Adso, is my homage to The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco. And, no, he is not gay at all. (It is good to note that Eco himself, in choosing for his sleuth-monk the name of Guglielmo da Baskerville, was paying homage to Conan Doyle…)

The confessional was introduced only after the Council of Trento (1545-1563). Before, penitents and confessors faced each other openly.


	2. Chapter 2 San Galgano

**The Pilgrimage by Camilla10**

Chapter 2 - San Galgano

A/N

Here is Chapter 2, as promised. From now on I'll update every week.

The vampires in this story will not completely adhere to canon. They will have bright red eyes only immediately after feeding, while normally their eyes would be a very dark red, to the point of looking black to humans, particularly out of the sunlight. For most of this plot, the issue of the vegetarian vamps' eye color will not have a role. Vampires' skin will be luminescent under the sun, like marble, but not sparkling and creating rainbows. Nothing, in other words, that a monk's cowl would not conceal easily.

**(Adso)**

Hot and satisfying, the man's blood soothed Adso's throat, filling his body with pleasure. He allowed himself to rest for a while, basking in the warmth radiating from his belly, thinking of nothing. Sated… and waiting. Then the usual pain began, the nausea, the compulsion to vomit. A part of his vast brain told him to count: 1…2…3…35...45... If he could reach 50, he would not empty his stomach… 50. The pain ebbed; the nausea was no more. Every time he thought he was going to succumb and shame himself, but he always prevailed over this strange malaise. Well, almost always. Completely recovered and moving in a blur he disposed of the two bodies - the one he had drained and the one he had been forced to kill, to avoid leaving witnesses to his feeding. Two would-be pilgrims who were arriving at San Galgano after dusk, but would never reach it, nor return home. He hid the coins they had with them inside his tunic and, walking now at a human pace, went back to the monastery's guesthouse.

Now he had to feign sleep for the rest of the night.

Lying completely still on his pallet, but remembering to breath slowly and deeply, Adso could not prevent himself from wondering why he had to feel sick for a minute every time he fed. No other vampire suffered this strange phenomenon, as far as he knew. Not that he had asked anybody, he always tried to be alone when he took blood. When that was impossible, he forced himself to remain impassive, like he was still enjoying his meal. It had started after his newborn stage and it still continued, so many years later. If it was meant to be his punishment, then so be it, he sighed; he fully deserved it. Another punishment was the fact that his human life's memories had not completely faded, as they should have. He remembered far too much…

….

The days of his novitiate. He had been happy then, even glad, eventually, to have ended up in Saint Peter, the monastery that graced the alpine valley adjacent to the one where he was born. The life at home hadn't been easy. It is never easy for a bastard son. His father's wife hated him - offspring of a fling with a scullery maid – her ire constantly directed at Adso because he was healthy and strong and her children were sickly. His father had protected him, however, particularly after his mother passed away, because he felt that he also was getting sick and likely to die soon. He died far too young, having secured his son's future with the Church.

Adso would have liked to be a Franciscan, but his father had not admired those friars, vowed to poverty and sometimes leaning on heresy. So he donated generously and his bastard son became a novice in the Dominican monastery of Saint Peter of Verona, who was one of the first martyrs of the Order.

Content and naïve, dreaming of becoming a preacher, like the best Dominicans, he had thrown himself in his new life, doing his best at any task he was given, menial or not. He studied, learned, and, due to his good voice, became the valued soloist of the monastery's chorus. Since he already knew how to read and write, had a smattering of Latin and a head for numbers, more often than not he was given clerical duties, working alongside the cellarer.

And then, one day, while cleaning the documents' room and putting the precious parchments in order, he saw a draft, and his world collapsed.

Simony. There was not another word for it. Simony. The sale of what was sacred. The draft he had seen was not meant for his eyes. It was a note conceived for confessors and preachers, suggesting how much money to ask penitents who had sinned and wanted to secure years of indulgence. Pope Boniface the 8th, in proclaiming the Holy Year 1300, had offered Plenary Indulgence to anybody who made a pilgrimage to Rome. Hordes of people reached the Eternal City and left generous offerings at Saint Peter's bronze feet. At the end of the year, an enormous amount of money had been collected and that must have set people thinking, Adso realized. Why only in Rome, why wait for another holy year?

He had rushed to the privy, gagging. When he had recovered a little, the full extent of what he had seen overwhelmed him.

Adso did not question the issue of indulgences per se, while the idea of calculating them in months and years seemed slightly ludicrous. He doubted that God counted time like men did, whether their souls be in Heaven, Hell or Purgatory. But, in any case, indulgences had to be earned by penances and good deeds, not by paying money. He wondered what else had escaped him, how many unholy actions were regularly committed, unbeknownst to him. Louder and louder the words of Saint Peter to Simon Magus resonated in his mind:

"_Thy silver perish with thee, because thou hast thought to obtain the gift of God with money. Thou hast neither part nor lot in this matter, for thy heart is not right before God. …. For I see that thou art in the gall of bitterness and in the bond of iniquity..."_

After a night of torment he realized he could not be part of this blasphemy. He would not. All the reasons behind his becoming a monk, his vocation even, were shattered. He had to leave before pronouncing his final vows. He must go. Right now. And so he had left, with no place to go, with no money or prospects, leaving behind a comfortable and secure life.

He had been so full of ideals, when human. Not anymore.

.….

It was dawn, and people were stirring, so the vampire was now free to "wake" from his faked slumber. It was time to resume his play-acting. He went to collect the few pilgrims he had already secured and guided them to Prime, inside the church. Visitors were exempt from participating in pre-dawn Matins, of course, and he also had missed it this time, due to his hunting. He had been getting very thirsty and had needed to feed. After the prayers, when his little flock was eagerly headed to the guests' refectory, he whispered to them that he was remaining in the church for a while.

"Brother, don't weaken yourself with too much fasting," half-joked Duccio, the butcher. "We have to walk a lot more."

Baldo, his brother, was looking at Adso with an intent expression on his usually vacant face. He was a simpleton and still, some of his glances made the vampire uneasy. It was almost as if the boy could see behind his façade. Children sometimes had the Sight, but no matter, Baldo was almost dumb, and surely couldn't explain his suspicions, should he have any.

Finally alone in the church, Adso knelt again, enjoying perfect stillness, something that was natural for him now, and he could seldom afford. In his mind he started to count the followers he had gathered so far: The butcher and his brother, a fine choice. The rich widow and her son, with her friend, the notary. The woman and the notary were as thick as thieves and thoroughly unpleasant. He was sure that nobody was going to mourn them, which was a good thing.

_Stop this_, he told himself. _I should not dwell on the moral qualities of those I bring to Saint Marcus' shrine. Humans are our destined prey and my "brothers" are thirsty_. _In fact,_ he mused,_ in the last few years we have fasted almost like real monks do_.

Indeed it was so. With the human population severely curbed by the plague, it was necessary to leave space and time for its reproduction. Therefore Aro, in his wisdom, had put everybody on rations. As for drinking from the people who were ill and dying, _bleah_, they all had had to do it: it was allowed and vampires certainly could not be infected, but the taste was foul. Only recently Adso and the other Lures had begun again going around and harvesting mortals.

He rose and went back to the guest house. Hopefully, the refectory would have emptied now, so nobody needed to know that he had not eaten there. A group of pilgrims, led by a parish priest had been left stranded, because the man got sick – not the plague again, fortunately - and he was sure he could convince some or all of them to follow him.

Getting into the communal room, he saw that more people had arrived the night before, while he was hunting. One was a middle-aged man, with a military countenance.

_The night before_

**(Omodeo)**

_Fulco's calloused hands, roughened by the crossbow's constant use, but so tender when caressing me. His ardent mouth taking in my manhood, savoring it… then one hand comes up to grasp the base of my shaft, the other strokes my sac and I am undone, crying loud and spurting into my beloved's throat. Bliss. He gulps everything down and, raising his face, graces me with his impish grin. The grin morphs into a grimace, though, while the sweet planes of his face dissolve and now it is Fulco's skull that I see, the skull of my dead lover. _

Omodeo awoke, drenched in sweat. Realizing he had sat up in a panic, he lay down again, trying to calm himself, to control his breath. Would he ever find peace? Almost every night the memories of his lost happiness came to taunt him, along with his guilt, because he had lain low on the plain of Crecy under his friend's corpse, seven years and a lifetime ago. Hoping to look dead, not mourning his beloved, not dying by his side, but using him as a shield.

They, the hired Genoese crossbowmen fighting along the French army, had been in the forefront of the battle line, but their quarrels had not reached the English. Their strings were damp and they had misjudged the range, so the English archers with their long bows - so powerful that they could stop a mounted knight in full armor - had butchered them. Those Genoese who tried to retreat were cut down by the French themselves, as traitors. But Omodeo and Fulco had been among the first to fall. He only wounded, his lover dead.

And, in that supreme moment, Omodeo had thought only of saving his own ass.

"You and I are like the Sacred Band of Thebes," Fulco had said to him one night, after passionate lovemaking. "Paired warriors who were also lovers. And therefore invincible, the Thebans believed, because lovers would fight more fiercely and cohesively than just mere comrades with no intense bonds."

This had indeed proved true for decades, until Philip the Macedon had massacred them all at Cheronea.

Fulco was well born and well schooled. He knew Latin and Greek and had read Plutarch, but some indiscretion of an obvious nature had made him leave his family and join the crossbowmen's mercenary battalion. He was also handsome, witty and a daredevil. When they met, Omodeo had been overwhelmed, forgetting everything he had believed before, forgettingthat, according to the Church, they were committing an unforgivable sin.

It did not matter: seduced, owned, he was desperately in love for the first time in his life. With a man. They kept their liaison concealed from their comrades – so-called Greek love not being appreciated in the ranks - and came together only when they could do it safely, suffering frustrated desire more often than not. But it had been wonderful all the same, until their Cheronea had come, at Crecy.

At Cheronea, however, the three hundred warrior-lovers had all died together - none wanting to survive his companion - while he, Omodeo, had outlived his partner with his own craven weakness. He had crept away hours after the battle, silent and fast, because scavengers in human form were coming to depredate the fallen. To his eternal shame, he never learned what had happened to Fulco's remains.

In the seven years that followed he had repented bitterly for his cowardice. Unable to use the cross bow anymore - because his badly healed wound had left his right arm damaged - he had survived due to his past earnings as a mercenary. He went back to Italy, but he was always unhappy, despondent, and thinking of seeking his end, desiring it. When the pestilence came, he thought it would finally terminate his inner torment. Seeking death, and hoping to atone for his past, he had joined the corpse carriers, those who buried the bodies of people killed by the plague. No such luck. He didn't fall ill, and he survived. Not even the Black Death had wanted him.

And now he was here in San Galgano, with the idea of joining a group of pilgrims going to some shrine, since it was a popular gathering place. After Fulco, he had sinned no more, not even with women. He had not repented for having loved him, though, and never confessed it. So he was surely damned, albeit he believed that his real and only sin had been his behavior at Crecy. Still, he felt a need to speak with God, to be finally absolved by Him, if not by a priest.

Somebody else entered the communal room, a youth, nervous and alone, carrying a sack with his belongings. Well dressed, short and slender, he had pageboy dark hair escaping from his beret. He went to sit on a bench in the farthest corner of the room. Omodeo, disinterested, turned his eyes elsewhere, so he did not catch the transfixed expression on Brother Adso's pale face as he looked at the newcomer.

Endnotes

The cowl was the hooded outer garment of a monk, worn over a tunic.

The cellarer was one of the most important monastic officials, as he had charge of the monastery's provisions and finances.

For the battle of Crecy and the Sacred Bond of Thebes, I am indebted to Wikipedia, where you will find everything, if you want to know more.

The quarrels are the arrows used with the arbalest.


	3. Chapter 3 Follow me

**The Pilgrimage, by Camilla10**

Chapter 3 – Follow me

_Previously on Chapter 2_

_Omodeo, disinterested, turned his eyes elsewhere, so he did not catch the transfixed expression on Brother Adso's pale face as he looked at the newcomer._

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**(Ada)**

When the young monk finished speaking everybody remained silent, considering his offer. Then small conversations started here and there. For some of them it meant going back to Siena, but, from there, the distance to Volterra was such it could be covered in a few days. And, since they would follow part of the _Romea_ northward, they would be sure to find hospitality. There was in Brother Adso's countenance, in his voice – a voice that was mellow but carrying - something that made you want to go with him, thought Ada, the wet nurse.

Plus, the dangers they could encounter in a longer journey worried her. Furthermore, Brother Adso had explained that the spiritual rewards would be great,.A large harvest of indulgences would be gathered by those who would worship at Saint Marcus' shrine. Indulgences, he had added, that would be earned by sincere repentance only, after they had been absolved and taken Holy Communion. He had not added anything else, but it was clear that no money was going to be demanded.

For Ada this was very welcome news, because she was poor. Until she got pregnant again, delivered, and could nurse another rich baby - fortunately those who had survived the plague were going at it like rabbits - she would not earn any money. The little she had saved must suffice for her and her husband till then. He, Vito, cultivated fields that were not his own, and, while not a serf, there were heavy dues to be paid to the owner. Starvation was always around the corner. For her to become a wet nurse had meant salvation. Plus, she had a lot of milk and no children of her own to nurse. None of them had survived more than a few days, until Giannetto.

Giannetto, her little cherub, a beautiful blond boy, her miracle. But not Giannetto anymore; now he was Michele, that was his new name and she had lost him forever. Another family had him and called him their grandchild. The images she could not cancel were branded in her mind: Michele, dead in his crib, inexplicably suffocated as it sometimes happened to little babies. Her fear to be considered responsible and then her swift decision. Both children had blond curls: her own and her charge. Her employers had just died of the plague and most of the servants had run away. When the grandparents came to collect the baby, they had not questioned the situation. She had nursed Giannetto, now called Michele, for a few months more and then she had had to go home. Her desperate tears were not found surprising: very often nurses got attached to their babies.

It was for her son, for his continued protection since she was not there to guard him, that she had embarked in this journey. And to be absolved for her deception, of course. Trying to distract herself, she thought to address the young pilgrim, who looked too timid and perhaps too young to be travelling alone.

**(Adso)**

The monk had delivered his practiced speech faultlessly, albeit most of his vast mind had been occupied elsewhere. Now he was waiting for the pilgrims' response, having retreated again into the church.

With his perfect hearing he had heard the young newcomer introducing himself to the motherly woman sitting nearby. Aligi was his name. Slender and willowy, but not tall, he had an oval face, illuminated by dark gray eyes. His nose and mouth had an almost classical perfection. Angels would have the same face, he thought, if angels existed. Devils did, surely. He knew, because he was one,luring people to their death or draining them himself.

Would all the people he had spoken to be convinced? He was well aware of his power and his arguments, that he had heavily colored for better effect.

Certainly, Rome was a more dangerous place to be than it was in the past. He had not lied when he had explained it to the pilgrims. With the Pope exiled in Avignon, the City had deteriorated, succumbing to warring families and civic unrest. Only recently Cola di Rienzo, the self-appointed Tribune of the Plebs-turned-tyrant had been exiled. In fact, the Volturi had had a hand in his downfall. Well-placed immortals had worked to create discontent and finally ignited the revolt that had caused the Tribune's overthrowing. However, Aro had not wanted him dead. Exile was better, so the Volturi guards were told not to kill him. He could well come back, if it suited the Abbot's complex schemes and secret dealings with the Church. But in any case, even if the turmoil created by the Tribune had ended, the control exerted on the Urbis by the distant Pope was minimal. In his speech Adso had underlined the risks, enhancing them.

Would the young pilgrim react as expected? He was hoping against hope that he wouldn't, choose to follow him, but he most probably would and then… and then he would be killed with the others. And his killer could be Adso himself. Being the Lure, he had first pick.

But did he really want Aligi's blood? Was this attraction or blood lust? Never, never before he had experienced what he was feeling now. It was as if his body, stony for years, had suddenly come alive again, with ghostly blood coursing in his dried veins.

What was there in Aligi that had captivated him so? What was the nature of the desire that had seized him the moment he saw the young pilgrim? It was not thirst, of this he was almost sure. No overwhelming scent had reached his nostrils. The pilgrims, even if unwashed and smelly, all sent forth the appealing aroma of their blood, but he was used to it and well in control, having fed just the night before. No, not thirst. And yet, he wanted, he wanted… What did he want, exactly? He was circling around the issue, he realized. Let him call things by their names, instead. That was his way, and in not being a hypocrite he found pride. The Church he had run away from was full of hypocrites. So let him admit the truth: on seeing the boy he had been aroused. Something that confused and shamed him.

Since becoming a vampire, Adso had not known the pleasures of the flesh, unless you counted drinking blood among them. And it was in fact a great pleasure, even if marred by the short but terrible nausea he experienced after drinking. When he was a novice in Saint Peter he had not even sought solitary release. It was a sin, albeit some of the other boys didn't restrain themselves. He had used cold water and hard work, instead.

The immortals comprising the Order of Saint Marcus, a sick joke, that name, if there was ever one, were by no means chaste. A few of them were mated, the others consorted freely with their coven's females - and some of the males as well. The women resided in a nearby nunnery, and when the time had come to move to the Castle of Petrina, a tunnel had been excavated – engineering work that had been no challenge for vampire strength and dexterity – so that the trysts could continue happily. But Adso had never taken part in them, despite the many offers he had received.

Still, he was not a virgin. His purity had been lost the same night he had been changed, before the teeth of the beautiful succubus who had seduced him had pierced his throat.

After his flight from the monastery Adso had wandered around Northern Italy, taking care to give his native mountains a wide berth. He'd had no money, but he was able to earn something as a wandering clerk, setting up a small table at fairs and markets and offering to write or read letters and documents for those who needed it. Other defrocked priests did this work, and nobody bothered them, because their skill was in great demand from the illiterates.

In Aquileia –once the seat of powerful Patriarch-Governors, who had extended the town's influence up to Istria– he met a fur merchant. The man was leaving for Eastern Europe to replenish his stock and needed somebody to accompany him and tend to the horses. The former novice knew about horses, having worked with them when he lived on his father's rich farm, and he spoke Latin and Italian, beside his native German. He had even some knowledge of the Slavonic language, learned from a stable hand he had been friendly with as a boy. Therefore the merchant hired him on the spot. They were deep into the Balkans when Adso met his fate.

He was sleeping in the stables of an inn, inside the merchant's carriage, to guard the furs, when something jolted him awake. It was a cool, gentle hand that had insinuated itself under his shirt and was caressing his chest. There was a woman hovering over his supine body, and she was beautiful. He had noticed her blonde head, surprisingly unveiled, when he was eating inside, and she had looked at him, and smiled. But then the woman had left and he had gone to sleep on the furs. He wanted to speak, but she shushed him:

"Don't say anything, just… feel." It was all wrong, but also so very right. No longer destined to be a monk and live chastely, Adso gave in, and lay down again, shutting his eyes. Bolder and bolder her caressing hands went lower. On reaching his breeches she palmed him over the cloth, humming happily on discovering his hard arousal. She soon stopped, though, whispering to him:

"Not here, we might be found, people come and go all the time. Let's find a more private place. Take some of the furs, we'll put them back afterward, don't worry." Obviously not Italian, she spoke it with an endearing foreign accent, her voice like honey.

He should have suspected her, he should have been wary that this was maybe a ruse to steal the carriage and the pelts, if she had accomplices, but he didn't think of it. Driven by his engorged manhood, he followed her mindlessly, out of the stables and into the woods.

After a short walk, passing alongside a stream that trickled its music in the quiet night, they happened on a tiny clearing just a couple of yards wide, surrounded by thick bushes. The woman stopped and they both let the furs fall on the ground.

"Undress," she commanded and he promptly obeyed, battling with his stays. When he raised his gaze, she was naked too, a creamy white perfection under the moonlight. Desperate to have her, but uncertain about how to proceed, he brought her to lie down with him, too distracted to notice how sturdy her body felt under the silky skin, and how cold.

"Steady," she said, "steady does it", almost like she was taming a wild horse. And he calmed a little, because what was happening to him was too wonderful to be spoiled: he wanted to savor it to the fullest. So he let her take the lead and was led through a maze of delights. Almost dizzy with lust he enjoyed her intimate caresses, moaning loudly when first her now warmer hands and then her mouth explored his most sensitive areas, his nipples, his groin and, finally, his length. Then she added her talented tongue to the mix and he almost swooned.

When the time came he did not take her, she took him, going on top and riding him to an orgasm that came far too quickly. But Adso was young and the woman a seductress beyond compare; very soon his body was ready again and this time he proudly heard her crying out loud in her own release. The night stretched to an eternity of bliss, till, utterly spent, Adso felt his eyes close of their own accord and fell asleep in her arms.

He did not know if he was awake again or dreaming, when he heard her musical voice again:

"I am sorry," she said, "I am so sorry." And he felt something sharp cutting into his neck. He fought, but the arms holding him were like iron chains. Dimly he realized that this… this thing keeping him down - how could **it** be his enchanting lover of moments ago? – was sucking from his throat… sucking his blood. In his confusion, he realized that there was pleasure mixed with the pain he was experiencing. Unable to resist, he was letting go, sliding into the darkness, when a scream pierced the night and the cold mouth stopped drinking.

"Tanya, you have to come. The Volturi have found Sasha…they want to kill her. Quick, snap his neck and follow me." But Tanya didn't touch him again. She ran after the other woman and Adso was left alone.

Then the fire came.

In the awful hours that followed he writhed in pain, albeit some instinct told him not to make a noise, not to be heard, not to lead the creature back to him, in case she had changed her mind. He somehow managed to move from the clearing, crawling, until he found the stream and plunged in, hoping to find relief from the flames coursing in his veins. Half submerged, only his nose and mouth out of the water, he found the burning a little more bearable. Fearing he would drown if he passed out, he dragged himself out of the water, till the pyre inside him drove him back into the water again. Thus, three excruciating days passed.

He felt his heart stopping and believed he was dead, but it was not so. Regaining his consciousness and amazed to feel so well, he rose and found himself standing quite far from where he had lain. His senses seemed to have sharpened to an impossible degree, and it took a while for him to distinguish between all the noises and colors he was surrounded with. Then Adso realized he was naked and tried to trace his way back to the small clearing where he had been with the monstrous woman.

It was not difficult to find the spot and everything was as he had left it. He vaguely wondered if the merchant was still at the inn or had left, having denounced him as a thief, and if he could go back to him with the missing furs. To dress again was a trial, though. His shirt came apart in his hands as he attempted to don it and managing his breeches took an enormous effort. When he was trying to put on his short tunic again, he became distracted. He realized he was very thirsty and thought to return to the stream and drink. Before he could even finish the thought, he had arrived at the stream, surprised by how fast he could move. Then something distracted him again. His nose was assaulted by a wonderful smell and he saw a man walking along the bank, a logger.

A few minutes after their meeting the logger was drained and dead and Adso had a better idea of what had happened to him. Legends he had vaguely listened to when he was a boy were true! The woman who had seduced him was in all probability a bloodsucking demoness, a vampire who had made him like her. Full of horror, hating himself, he had run away from that accursed place.

…***…

Other people had joined Adso in the church and were now standing in front of him. His new flock, surely. Well in the back of the group, but with them, he saw Aligi. Despair and desire battled inside him, but the latter won. In the next days he would try to get to know the lad better, to understand what was happening and why he appealed to him so much. He still could not believe that it was simply lust, unnatural lust. There must be some other reason that he needed to discover. He had no idea of how it all would end. Would he drain Aligi himself in order to terminate the carnal temptation he represented? That he would not allow another vampire near him was already clear in his mind. Or, could he find a way to spare his life?

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Endnotes

You may have realized that the Sasha named in the story is the "mother" of Tanya, Irina and Kate and that the Volturi just came to the Balkans in order to punish her for the creation of an immortal child.

What do you think so far? Please, review. I really need your feedback.

The _Romea_. Our pilgrims, in order to go from Siena to Volterra, will walk part of the Via Francigena, but going Northward, not South. The Via - at the time called also _Romea _or _Francesca_ - was the major route used by thousands of pilgrims on their way from Canterbury to Rome. The pilgrims travelled mostly on foot for penitential reasons, covering about 15-20 Km per day and finding hospitality in monasteries or hospices. Plenty of info on the web.

The Exile in Avignon: from 1305 to 1378 seven Popes resided in Avignon (Southern France, today). This arose from the conflict between the Papacy and the French crown, a conflict where France prevailed. The absence from Rome is sometimes referred to as the "Babylonian Captivity of the Papacy". All those Popes were French, and all were under the influence of the French crown. Finally, in 1377, Gregory XI moved his court back to Rome, officially ending the "Exile". The popes in Avignon, however, were able to maintain a tenuous rule over Rome. The brief popular revolution of Cola di Rienzo, styling himself Tribune of the Urbis, had more dramatic than political impact (1347-1354, with interruptions). The terrible mortality of the plague reduced Rome's population to less than 20,000, and the city staggered through the last half of the 14th century still racked by factional strife. Rome was described as a city filled with huts, thieves and vermin; wolves could be seen at night in the neighborhood of St. Peter's. Pilgrimages, however, continued to happen, as the aim was to visit Saint Peter's Tomb, not so much to see the Pontiff himself.

That the Volturi had a hand in Cola di Rienzo's downfall is something I could not resist writing. In fact the Tribune returned from his exile just a few months later, to be eventually killed by a mob in 1354.

I have researched medieval masculine garments and undergarments, finding a lot of contradictions. However my conclusion is that, under a tunic – long or short - poor people wore pants of different lengths - called braies - made of linen or wool - and nothing else. Better off men used short linen braies as underwear, covered with long breeches, or "hose-pants", not knitted, obviously, but made of different materials. Those hose-pants became progressively tighter as fashion dictated. Out of humility, and for practical reasons, monks did not wear braies.


	4. Chapter 4 At the Well

**The Pilgrimage by Camilla10**

Chapter 4 - At the well.

_Previously in chapter 3_

_Would he drain Aligi himself in order to terminate the carnal temptation he represented? That he would not allow another vampire near him was already clear in his mind. Or, could he find a way to spare his life? _

**(Adso)**

Adso had to admit that today's accommodations for his pilgrims were not the best - a walled farmhouse where they had to sleep under a porch, all together and eating what provisions they had managed to bring with them from San Galgano. But the stretch of road between there and Siena was too long to be done in a day. Tomorrow they would reach the_ Spedale_ of Santa Maria della Scala, one of the most important stops on the Romea, and he planned to have them rest for two nights.

The _Spedale _had even a bath house for the guests to use, and he would see to it that they all washed thoroughly. He wanted to deliver them to his 'brothers" in Petrina in good condition. And not stinking, if possible.

Everybody was eating and Adso had better to look as if he was eating too. This was easiest when walking, because if he moved around enough, and turned often, nobody could exactly follow what he was doing.

A few minutes later his bread and cheese had disappeared, crumbled in one of the cowl's convenient pockets. He went to the well for a drink, immersing the ladle provided in the full pail and bringing it to his mouth. Nobody needed to know it was empty. He had just put it back, when another hand took it. A slim hand, with nails bitten to the bone. Aligi's hand. The boy drank deeply, and the movement of his throat gulping made a ripple of desire blind him for a second. Adso saw himself biting the smooth throat… or kissing it? '

A question that had riddled him from the beginning burned his lips.

"Aren't you too young to be travelling alone ..umm .. Aligi?" As if he could forget his name.

"I am almost eighteen." The boy replied, offended.

Eighteen? Improbable. No trace of beard, rather short, no muscles to speak of. He had still to complete his growth. No more than sixteen, the monk surmised, possibly less.

"Still so young. What possibly could you be seeking penance for, at such a tender age?" Adso asked bluntly. But, since he was leading them, he was entitled to ask, because it was his responsibility to know who he was taking to the holy shrine. Of course, nobody was obliged to answer him in detail: that was kept for the confession.

"It is… that is, I'm not… the sins I carry…it is for my father.. I am here on behalf of his soul," the boy blurted out, reddening deeply and averting his eyes. But the flash of pain Adso had seen in them was enough.

"Did he die of the plague?" he asked.

"Yes… he didn't want me to care for him. He was afraid I too would succumb, but I didn't. He wanted a priest in his final moments, but none would come. And so I must beg for the forgiveness of his eternal soul."

This was true, unfortunately. Priests often avoided giving last rites to people dying of the plague.

"It was said that people who got sick could confess their sins directly to God," Aligi continued, "but I don't know if it is true, and he was rambling, toward the end."

The boy's grey eyes filled with tears, remembering, and he averted his face angrily.

"I am a coward," he added, "because I did not want to listen, I didn't want to know. I could not avoid it, though, and now, now I have to do something for him. Will this pilgrimage help his soul, brother? Can you give me some reassurance? Please?"

His eyes returned to Adso's face and the vampire stood, transfixed, inhaling Aligi's scent. Cinnamon, lavender, a hint of sweat and salty tears. Delightful, but it did not elicit his thirst, or not only it. The smell captivated him, and all the soothing lies which he should have been saying and all the platitudes that his play-acting demanded from him, were gone from his mind. Sordid images, forbidden images twirled around his vast brain, instead. He actually stopped breathing for a moment to regain his composure. Finally, he managed to mumble a "God is merciful, Aligi" and felt sick with self-hate.

Abruptly, he left the well and took refuge the farthest corner of the yard. Another moment and he would have touched the boy, embraced him, tried to console him.

_And then_, he mocked himself, _what would I tell him? "Don't worry, you'll soon be dead too, and bound for heaven, since you are innocent and loved your father?"_

He felt that Aligi was looking at his retreating back and his gaze scorched his shoulders. He wanted to know more of the boy, he wanted…

Incapable to deal with what was possessing him, he tried to distract himself. And then, it came to him. The young pilgrim did not need to die. If he managed it, he would try to prevent him reaching Petrina. Excited, Adso started scheming. He needed a plan, he needed maybe to redirect him somewhere else, suggesting a better, holier destination. In Siena they would meet with other groups, there would be alternatives. Somehow, with this idea in mind, he felt better.

**(Cosimo)**

The notary had collapsed on his bench and felt so broken that he wondered if he could move again. And the pilgrimage was only starting. How fortunate that the person he was stalking had chosen to follow the Saint Marcus's monk. At least, their journey was much shorter than it would have been originally. He had thought of riding a mule, but all the others were walking and he did not want anybody to suspect his motivations were other than piety. A pious rendering of grace because he had escaped the plague was what he had told his companions, while the real reason was to find his blackmailer, and, if possible, to silence him. Accidents could happen, on a journey, and here he had a better access to him. He was pretty sure of the bastard's identity. Who else could know of his and Velia's secret?

Business had not been good for notaries during the Black Death's rampage. Young people died before old ones, weddings were not celebrated, contracts were not stipulated, or, if they did, they were not honored, because often one or both the contacting parties were no more. Therefore Cosimo's work had come to a standstill and his coffers were almost empty, when the pestilence ended.

Used to a comfortable life, he had been very worried indeed. Then Velia's uncle by marriage had died, of a common cold that had affected his lungs and had proved eventually fatal. Left with no direct heirs, the uncle had willed his substantial fortune to the Church, in the hopes of buying himself a place in Heaven, maybe. The miserly old man had been secretive, though, so he had called the notary at night and nobody knew of his decision. He dictated the text from a draft he had penned already. The two witnesses - illiterate servants - had signed their crosses on the document's bottom with no inkling of its content.

Upon hearing of his death, a few days after, a plan took form in Cosimo's head, so good as to be impossible to resist. At dawn he had crossed the deserted streets and presented himself to Velia – just an acquaintance till then - with a dangerous proposition that would profit them both. With her agreement he forged a new will and destroyed the real one. Being a relative, albeit an estranged one, nobody was surprised that she inherited the fortune and vineyards of her uncle, a prosperous vine merchant like her late first husband had been. Handsomely paid for his part of the scheme, Cosimo waited patiently for new clients with a lighter heart, now that things were slowly returning to normal.

Until the anonymousletter came, that was. The writer said he knew of the forgery and would turn him to the bailiffs, adding that he, or possibly she (but how many women could read and write? Cosimo asked himself,) could prove it. The letter did not ask for money, though, what was demanded of him was still unclear. Evidently, the blackmailer would make him squirm first, and then strike.

After many sleepless nights, he was practically sure of who his foe was. Only Velia's son, Masino, could know. He could have heard them speaking, after all. And the deceased was his uncle. Well, not exactly, as he was born from Velia's second husband, also deceased, but still a relative.

He disliked the boy. Scowling all the time, moody, a cross for his mother to bear. Velia had told Cosimo that Masino had courted a very unsuitable girl, and wanted to marry her, until his mother had intervened. The secret engagement was terminated and the girl had died soon after, he dimly remembered. In fact, Velia had decided to go on a pilgrimage to provide a distraction for his son. Already convinced that Masino was the blackmailer, the notary had decided to join mother and son on the pilgrimage…

In any case, should her son encounter a fatal accident during the journey, Velia would be all alone. And a good family friend, himself, would be ready to console her. Well, she was well past her prime, but her fortune was attractive indeed… Yes, the boy was fated to never get home. A suicide, maybe. A cliff, a well, whatever worked. It would be believable; he was heartbroken, after all. Despite his bulk and his lack of exercise, Cosimo was strong, his arms well muscled still. And, when the moment came he would take Masino, who was not an athlete, by surprise. Like a thief in the night.

**(Adso)**

Unaware of the murderous intent one of his sheep was harboring, the monk was lost in his thoughts. He would have to convince Aligi to leave. After all, the capacity to persuade was his talent, as mind reading was Aro's, and bond detecting was Marcus' - that broken shell of a vampire**, **since he had lost his mate.

Mates… Adso had never found his and it was better so, he thought. He understood lust, had experienced it with Tanya and now… with somebody who was not even of the right gender. But he would fight it, he would not give in to this unnatural craving.

Love was another matter entirely. There was something intrinsically wrong with pairing the concept of vampire with the concept of him or her finding love. One of his teachers in Saint Peter's Monastery - a saintly old man, dead well before Adso's flight - had not been afraid of speaking to him of what could pass between a woman and a man.

"You will encounter human love among the people you'll confess and will preach to, and you'll have to understand, even if you are not going to experience it" he had said. "The God Lord doesn't despise flesh. His own Son became flesh. Therefore the sacred bond between a man and his wife comprises both the spirit and the flesh. Very often, however, the flesh prevails, and people sin. But, when there is perfect equilibrium, with no selfishness, no greed, then human love mirrors divine love. Never forget that, my son."

Adso had not spoken then, ashamed because what had bonded his mother and his father for a while had been sinful, obviously. But the lesson had stayed with him. Until the night he lost his virginity and became a vampire, that is. And what he had seen of humanity since then had dispelled every illusion of love. As for vampires, most of them were like animals. Pitiless predators, what had love to do with them? They rutted, just that. Still, some animal species mated for life, he knew it. It was a conundrum he had never solved: To murder wantonly and to love eternally seemed an impossible contradiction, as selfishness ruled murderers and true love was all about unselfishness. How could anyone make a habit of killing, and yet love another person infinitely? How could the purity of one act survive the filthy blackness of the other? It puzzled him. Oh, If only there was a way of feeding without killing...

The sun had gone for the day. It was time to lead the night prayer and tell his pilgrims to go to sleep. When Adso's pure tenor voice intoned the Compline hymn "_Te Lucis Ante Terminum"_ nobody joined him, for a while. Despite the constraining discipline imposed by Gregorian music on human voices - or maybe because of it – It seemed to the awed pilgrims that this was the way angels sang. Had the vampire been a mind reader, he would have found the idea extremely ironic.

Endnotes

Reviews? Oh please.

**Too many characters?**

I realize that this story has a lot of characters and that might be confusing, particularly when reading about them in separate chapters. So, like in the best mysteries, I have written a List of Characters. If you check my one shot Confession, posted here on Fanfiction net, you'll find the list there, substituting a text which has become now the Prologue of The Pilgrimage. Alternatively, you can PM me and I'll be happy to send it to you.


	5. Chapter 5 Toward Siena

**The Pilgrimage, by Camilla10**

Chapter 5 – Toward Siena

_Previously in Chapter 4_

_To murder wantonly and to love eternally seemed an impossible contradiction, as selfishness ruled murderers and true love was all about unselfishness. How could anyone make a habit of killing, and yet love another person infinitely …... Oh, If only there was a way of feeding without killing..._

**(Adso)**

The dusty road went up and down, not straight like the ancient Roman ways, but bending to accommodate the bordering lines of properties, most of them abandoned after the plague. Certainly, walking at a human pace was boring. If he could run as he was capable of, he would already be in Siena. Sometime Adso wondered if the decision to stay with the Volturi had been the right one. Maybe it would have been better to be a nomad, with his next meal as his primal concern. An empty mind, the excitement of the hunt. He would have even less of a conscience than he had now…

The Volturi warriors had found him a few days after his change, when thirst and only thirst had dictated his actions. He had killed many times, before that point, but some instinct had taught him stealth. He had waited to be alone with his prey to kill. Then, after a while, he had thought that it would have been better if he concealed the corpses of those he had drained. He did not know if it was piety that had moved him or just the need of not raising any alarm. In fact, the other four vampires found him when he was trying, not very effectively, to bury his latest victim. Unknowingly, this had saved his life.

He had been surrounded, collared, an inch away from having his head removed, when one of his assailants told the others to wait.

"He is an untrained newborn, but he is already trying to keep the secret," he had said as he indicated the newly dug grave. "Spare him. Perhaps he can learn our ways."

"Fine, Dominic, we already destroyed two of our kind, and it seems such a waste," the female among them added. "But let's hear what he can tell us, before we decide."

Not ready to die despite everything, grateful for the reprieve and craving more knowledge about what he had became, Adso chose to answer sincerely. They in turn explained many things about vampires, starting with their invulnerability, which made them practically immortal.

In the days that followed he travelled with them. They were returning to Italy, where their coven had its permanent abode. The little group had come to the Balkans to find Sasha, a female vampire who had done the unforgivable: she had turned a child, because in her own twisted way she longed to be a mother. That, he discovered, was the ultimate crime, because undead children killed mindlessly, could not be taught anything, and therefore could expose the existence of vampires to the world. To keep this a secret was the cardinal rule, they told him, one that the Volturi would not allow to disobey.

"Volturi?" Adso had asked, curious.

So he learned that his companions belonged to a powerful Italian coven, self-appointed guardians of the vampire world. They made sure that the rule was respected, administering swift and deadly punishment when it was not.

The woman among the warriors, a vampire called Ruby, was a tracker and had managed to find the truant immortal. She and her little boy had been dismembered and burned – the only way to kill a vampire, apparently. Sasha had three females in her coven, fiercely loyal to her, but they had arrived too late to prevent her execution and had been cowed into submission. One of them, Adso learned, was called Tanya, the vampire who had turned him. All that had happened to him in the fateful night of his change was made perfectly clear in that moment.

Awed, he later discovered that some vampires had almost magical powers. Dominic, for instance, could make a foe's body sluggish and heavy like lead, so that one could not move, could not fight. In this way the three "sisters" had not been able to defend their maker.

The warriors had been very interested by the fact that Adso had been a novice in a monastery. They wanted him to join them permanently. To his amazement, his fellow travelers explained that presently the Volturi, after different impersonations in their past, were now masquerading as monks. This disguise ensured they had power and protection at this point in time – time being counted in a very different way from how humans counted it, obviously. Accordingly, their leader, an ancient vampire called Aro, had turned a few real monks and clergymen and put their knowledge and expertise to good use, aiming at making their play acting foolproof. Blackmail, murder and a judicious use of gold had secured the desired result.

Thus the Order of Saint Marcus had been created, around the supposed holy relic of a Roman martyr. The cowl was the perfect sheep's clothing in which the vampires could pursue their bloody objectives, political or otherwise; culling humans for their feasts being their prominent one.

For this punitive mission, however, the Volturi warriors were not wearing a religious garb, but they would don it as they arrived in Volterra.

Always alert, even when absorbed in his reminiscing, Adso realized that one of his pilgrims was now walking by his side. It was Omodeo, who had told him of being a former crossbowman, a survivor of the battle of Crecy.

The man probably wanted to confide a bit more. There was nothing unusual about that. People went into pilgrimages with heavy burdens on their souls and sought reassurance and comfort from the clergy. With the patience of vampires – and of monks, at that – Adso waited for the man to find the courage to speak. When he finally did, he captured his attention completely.

"I think that what I am doing is useless, Brother, because I have not repented."

"In Petrina you'll have the chance to make a full confession, repent and be absolved."

"I can't be absolved," Omodeo blurted, "I betrayed my lover."

Adso gave his standard answer:

"Why do you think so? Anybody can be absolved if he repents, whatever his sin."

"Because the confessor will think that my real sin, a heinous one in his mind, was that my lover was a man, not that I betrayed him." This left Adso speechless: It was cutting too near to the bone, in his present predicament.

"And I can't repent of it," Omodeo continued, "because, were Fulco still alive, I would still be with him. He was my soul mate and I…I chose to save myself. I let his corpse rot, unburied." His voice broke and he remained silent for a while.

Then, slowly and painfully, the story came out, from the beginning of the forbidden, passionate liaison to its bitter end on a bloodied battlefield in France.

"I have never confessed it, I am not prepared to admit that our love was wrong," Omodeo concluded. "But, I should have died with him. I don't fear death anymore now. I have sought it. I was a corpse carrier during the pestilence and I hoped… But it seems even hell doesn't want me."

_Then I am sure I'll never become ashes,_ thought Adso, _if some sinners are too evil for hell_. _Fear not, pilgrim, by following me you have found your death. _He tried to say soothing words to the arbalester, as he could not find in himself the will to berate Omodeo for sinning unnaturally with another man. He could not preach hellfire and brimstone as his adopted persona would typically demand, so he spoke instead of God's forgiveness, of the penance the pilgrim had already endured, burying the dead that nobody else would touch, and of how such acts of charity would surely count for something in the end. He went on and on, uttering consoling platitudes that tasted like gritting sand on his lips. Because he had hated hypocrites and now he was being one, fundamentally, since he didn't believe a word of what he was saying.

Eventually Omodeo murmured a "Thank you, Brother," and let himself be overtaken by the other pilgrims. At a bend in the road, Adso saw that Aligi was at the very back of the line, walking with a middle aged woman, Vanna, who had told them she was a midwife. The woman was chattering non- stop. By rights, the boy should have been drawn to Masino, a young man nearer his age, but the permanent scowl on the other youth's face kept people at bay. Who knew what irked him? Well, nothing that an early death wouldn't cure.

The sun was shining and Adso burrowed his head deeply into the hood. Extremely white, he knew his skin would look strange under direct sunlight, unnaturally luminescent. Since nobody else seemed inclined to speak with him, he let his mind dwell on his personal concerns. Hearing Omodeo's story had disturbed him deeply. Even when he was a novice he had been aware of sodomy, and that there were such affairs, in monasteries. He had found the very idea appalling, not only sinful. That it happened also among vampires was not surprising; damned as they all were, nothing was too filthy for them. But now? Now…

It was obvious that what had tied Fulco and Omodeo had not been carnal, or at least not merely carnal. The arbalester had spoken of love, of the other man being his soul mate. Adso had never encountered love, both in his life and unlife, and sometime had wondered about it. Now he was thinking of little else, negating one day what he was considering the next. Even if it did not make any sense, he had observed and been forced to recognize that a few vampires were permanently mated and did not take part in any debauchery. They murdered, like vampires do, but they were faithful to their mates. And yet, the pairing was male/female, as far as he knew. What was happening to him now was impossible to explain. He lusted after Aligi, wanted both his blood and his body, with an intensity that left him stunned, sometimes.

Was he an incubus then, a sick one? The succubus who had seduced him at least had sought human males for her pleasure and her thirst. She had spared his life at the end, though, while a small twist of her strong hand would have terminated him. And it would have been better, surely.

But, if Adso was a perverted sodomite, why did he also feel the need to protect Aligi, from himself and from the fate that was waiting for him at the end of the journey? And why did he want to send the boy away, in order to be free of the temptation he represented, and prevent his death, while at the same time he felt the need to know him better, to open himself to him? An impossible puzzle he was unable to solve. Could it be… love?

At midday the monk called a halt near a fountainhead, so that his pilgrims could drink, refill their flasks and eat. He could see Aligi, sitting on a protruding flat rock. Vanna, the midwife, was looking at him intently. Then, taking an apple from her bag she exclaimed:

"Want one, Aligi? Take it!" and threw it to the youth, who opened his legs but managed to catch the fruit with his hand.

He said his thanks and bit into it. Adso felt such a pang of desire that he had to avert his eyes. And missed the self-satisfied smirk on the midwife's face.

Endnotes

The little exchange between Aligi and the midwife is my homage both to Robert Louis Stevenson and Mark Twain. If you (like Adso), didn't catch its significance, you'll discover it very soon. If you got it, you know that a big reveal is coming.

No, Demetri has not yet joined the Volturi. They have another tracker, presently.

According to canon, the Denali sisters were not aware that Sasha had created an immortal child, and for this reason they had been spared by the Volturi. I always found this difficult to believe. I think that they were aware, and appalled by it, but could not prevent it. They were not destroyed because, as Ruby says, to destroy vampires was not a pleasure for the Volturi, just a necessity sometime, and, sometime, clemency could enhance Aro's authority more than harshness.


	6. Chapter 6 Bathhouse

**The Pilgrimage, by Camilla10**

Chapter 6 - Bathhouse

A/N

I am depressed, sincerely. To date The Pilgrimage has gotten 7 reviews total. However, 325 people have been reading it. I will continue to post regularly, I am not one who would hold a story due to too few reviews, and I knew it was going to be hard, a Twilight story with no Cullens in sight. However, somebody is reading it, and I would so much to get some feedback. Please. (And, maybe, when you reach the end of the chapter you will see where I am going and be happier).

_Previously in Chapter 5_

"_Want one, Aligi? Take it!" and threw the apple to the youth, who opened his legs but managed to catch the fruit with his hand._

_He said his thanks and bit into it. Adso felt such a pang of desire that he had to avert his eyes. And missed the self-satisfied smirk on the midwife's face._

**(Vanna)**

Aligi seemed to be well off, judging by the quality of his garments. Vanna wondered how she could put that golden nugget of information to good use. It was not from delivering babies that most of her egg nest came from. When you got into a house where a birth was expected, formalities crumbled in the excitement, serving women gossiped, everybody was off guard. You observed, you listened, you kept mum, and you stored the information away and waited for the right moment to make use of it. And you never asked for too much. You said that you would keep the secret you had uncovered, you really would. And then you told a tale of woe, where just a little money would help you to stay afloat. Afterwards, you showed your gratitude and never asked for money again. At the end of the day you were trusted, you were considered a friend. Maybe other secrets, somebody else's secrets, would be spilled to you…

Of course there were other ways of earning something on the side, but they were far more dangerous. Women needed to conceive, or they were afraid to conceive, or, if they had conceived, they might not want the baby, for any reason. There were herbs and remedies that sometimes worked in such cases. And, if a baby was obviously deformed… why saddle a family with such a burden? If the cord was not knotted… It was easy, and you felt better for doing it, powerful, righting what God had done wrong. And Vanna would never ask money for it, obviously.

But the Church had big eyes and big ears and she was scared. Her parish priest had looked at her with some suspicion in his eyes, she thought. Had he heard something while taking confessions? He could not make use of what he had heard, of course, the confession secret was sacred, but… In fact she had decided to go in a pilgrimage, making sure that everybody knew of it, to show her piety. If she had been suspected, at least the priest would believe she had repented. And she would confess to one of the monks of Petrina, not at home.

**(Adso)**

Everybody should have been washing now. First the women had gone to the bathhouse and then the men. And everybody had obeyed him, since he had threatened, half joking, to keep them in the church of Santa Maria praying, instead of allowing them to the refectory, afterward. Yes, everybody but Aligi. The boy had disappeared.

Adso went to look for him, worried and angered, using the scent he remembered so well to find him. And finally Aligi was found, lurking in the shadows of a small inner courtyard, one among the many of the_ Spedale_, which was a veritable maze where even a vampire could get lost. Well, almost. Very quickly, but still controlling his speed, he was at the boy's side, making him jump.

"Why didn't you go to the bathhouse, Aligi? You heard what I said."

"I am sorry, Brother, "Aligi kept his face averted, "I don't like communal baths. I'll go later. I am not hungry anyway."

So, he was shy about his body. It figured. Well, never mind. It was time for Adso to start his campaign to make him leave the group and join another pilgrimage.

"It's getting late, and you should eat and rest, regardless. We will remain here another day. See that you go before you leave. After the plague, keeping clean is an essential precaution."

"I have had the plague, you know. After my father died. But I recovered. In any case, I will do as you wish."

Aligi, thinking that the discussion had ended, was moving to go back inside when Adso stopped him again.

"Why did you decide to come with us to Petrina? Where were you going, originally?"

"To Rome, Brother."

"And why did you change your mind?"

Aligi eyes were fixed on him now and Adso felt they could pierce his dead heart.

"You … you are very convincing, Brother Adso." The youth's husky voice was like a caress.

The fake monk hated himself even more, damning his luring power.

"Your first choice was the better one. Immense grace is bestowed on those who worship at Saint Peter's feet. If you want to do what is best for your father's soul, you should indeed go to Rome. I suggest that you join one of the pilgrimages going there. There are plenty to choose from, here in Santa Maria della Scala. Go and enquire about them. I am sure you'll find the pious group best suited to your quest. Most of the people who are following me only want to have a shorter journey."

Aligi remained silent for a while.

"I...I don't think I could join another group..." the boy finally mumbled.

Adso sensed his hesitation. It was the right moment to push and to make him decide. _I won't see you again_, he couldn't help thinking. _But you will live. I won't be your death_.

"I'm saying it in your best interest, Aligi." And truer words had never been spoken.

"I won't go." Aligi seemed to have made up his mind.

"Don't you care about your father's soul?" Adso provoked him. It was a vile blow, he knew it, but he had to save Aligi at all costs.

While the boy glared at him Adso saw his fist clenching and unclenching. Was he really going to attack him? A pilgrim against a monk? A human against a vampire?

"_Please_, Brother Adso, don't talk about my father." His voice was shaking. Adso could sense both the anger and the sorrow in it. "Don't make me leave our group."

Adso narrowed his eyes, unleashing the full force of his talent.

"Go to Rome. You have already done a lot, sacrificed a lot, leaving your home, your comfort. Do this last right thing, save your father's soul and yours too, God must have preserved you for an important purpose," he pleaded, "and you won't have to listen to me anymore," he concluded bitterly. The monk realized that he had gone far beyond what was proper, but had been incapable of stopping himself. The lad was furious:

"First, you tell us to come with you, you paint the dangers awaiting us in Rome in lurid colors, brother Adso, and now you are telling me to go there. Have I done something wrong? Do I deserve to be sent away from your group?"

For a while Adso didn't answer to this angry retort. His power was not having any effect, evidently. _Stubborn, stupid boy. Don't you see that it is not a punishment, but the only way to escape me? _

"I'm not sending you away. I'm only trying to help you." His voice was calmer, now.

"Why me? Don't you care about the salvation of the other pilgrims? What is wrong with Saint Marcus' shrine, with the relic of his hand?" It was Aligi's turn to provoke.

The monk couldn't stop the wave of despair that washed over him. He had failed and could insist no more. He had already endangered his mission. What if the boy talked, encouraged other pilgrims to go away, made them suspicious? He should silence him.

Without thinking ahead, he grasped his arms.

Aligi flinched. Although Adso was always very careful with humans – unless it was time to kill them - he knew well how fragile they were, and his grip had been too strong.

Again, the boy's grey eyes were boring into his. Despite his murderous intent, or maybe because of it, he felt that he was trembling, as if blood – hot, hot blood – were running again in his dead veins, coming directly from the human's body into his. In seconds, he could have it for real.

All caution lost, he drew Aligi against his chest. He wanted to feel this warmth, he wanted to enjoy this softness, and the wonderful scent that was engulfing him.

Aligi opened his lips, but no scream came from them: He let out a loud breath and pressed his scorching mouth on Adso's cold one. Time stood still. For a while none of the two dared to deepen the kiss or to move again.

Then sanity returned, and with it, horror. The young pilgrim freed himself from arms that had gone limp, murmured something unintelligible and ran away. Adso remained in the little courtyard, trying to make a sense of what had happened to him.

He had been a minute from biting the boy. But, when Aligi's lips had touched his own, all blood lust had gone from him. _He kissed me, why? Is it possible that he too…?_

No, it wasn't possible, it was wrong. And yet his body was not deceiving him.

Fully aroused, ashamed, Adso did not know what to do with himself. He had lost control, he could have killed Aligi, his blood had called to him and then the boy's lips had taken his breath and his thirst away. And now he was hard with carnal desire.

When he was human cold water had helped. He wondered if it would help him now. He needed to clean himself, anyway. While he never sweated, the dust of the road did affect his body.

The bathhouse was deserted and very dark. Not a problem for a vampire, though. It was a huge vaulted room, with small windows near the ceiling. It contained a few stone tubs and some low partitions, creating open cubicles, for those who wanted to wash while standing. Small basins and ewers were also provided. There was no longer any warmed water, this late, and the fire under the cauldron had died. Good, the colder the water was, the better.

Adso was about to shed his garments when he heard hesitant footsteps and saw a dim light approaching. Somebody was coming in, carrying a candle. He retreated into a dark corner and froze. Aligi had come to wash, as he had promised he would do. The boy put the candleholder on a stool and started to undress. Adso knew that what he was doing was despicable, but could not move, could not avert his gaze. And he had a complete view, as Aligi was standing in the middle of an open cubicle.

Under his shirt the boy had a white linen bandage wrapped tightly around his torso, as if he had been hurt and the wrapping was covering some wound. Adso could only see his back. However he did not notice anything untoward, when the bandage was unrolled. Then Aligi took a rag, wetted it and started washing himself. To do this he turned, and Adso gasped, almost audibly. On the delicate chest two perfect breasts, small but undeniably feminine, were there to be admired.

_Thy two breasts are like two fawns that are twins of a gazelle, which feed among the lilies…_

The Song of Songs' verse resonated in his confused brain, while another part of it was saying:_ hermaphrodite, how strange…_ until the undeniable truth asserted itself with no possible doubt left.

When Aligi removed his breeches and his linen braies, Adso's incredulous eyes saw that there was nothing manly at the summit of the boy's slender thighs: the dark curls veiled only the tender, enticing slit of womanhood. And the world was suddenly right.

Endnotes

Surprised? Or did you get the hint in the previous chapter? In The Black Arrow by Robert Louis Stevenson there is a girl in peril, Joanna, disguised as a boy. In Huckleberry Finn a cook throws something to a girl dressed like a boy and the girl, to catch it, opens her legs. A natural reaction if you are used to wear skirts. A man would close his legs, instead. This is all from memory, because I don't have the books anymore, alas.

In a little town near Rome, not in the Middle Ages but before WW II, there were no children born with disabilities to be found. The local midwife saw to it that they did not survive birth. Everybody knew and nobody spoke of it. Harsh peasant wisdom.

The plague mortality rate was extremely high, particularly in the respiratory variety. However, when it presented itself with buboes, some people recovered.

Without Raum's substantial help this chapter couldn't have been written. As usual, I also want to thank JMolly, Serendipitous/Meilleur Café and Miaokuancha for their pre-reading and Stefanie The Hobbit Ivy for the final editing.


	7. Chapter 7 Alina

**The Pilgrimage, by Camilla10**

Chapter 7 – Alina

A/N, Dear Avalon, thanks. Sorry I can't answer, but please let me hear from you again.

_Previously in Chapter 6:_

_When Aligi removed his breeches and his linen braies, Adso's incredulous eyes saw that there was nothing manly at the summit of the boy's slender thighs: the dark curls veiled only the tender, enticing slit of womanhood. And the world was suddenly right._

**(Alina)**

_Oh, the shame, the shame! I kissed him, a man of God. And he believes I am a boy. Until a few months ago I didn't even know that it was possible … a man with another man… It was a dirty joke I heard in the stables… I listened unseen and I couldn't believe it, almost. So disturbing; but it happens, apparently. And now, what will he think of me? The worst, surely. He wants me gone, anyway, and he is right. Now that he has reason to consider me a perverted person he will insist that I leave. He probably sensed that I was falling for him and that I would corrupt his group. And if he knew the truth, it still would not make any difference. It is forbidden, a monk can't, won't… but, he is so beautiful. I could not help myself…his arms, so strong, grasping mine. And his mouth, so near…red, red lips. Lips that are cool, and luscious, and smooth, and sweet…delicious, like a pomegranate, or the pulp of a fig. God, I am a harlot, I am an abomination, I am surely damned..._

Barricaded in the privy, Alina had emptied the scant contents of her already unfilled stomach. She could not stop retching. Only much later some sense returned and, with it, the determination to leave. She could not see him again. She lacked the nerve, she was too ashamed. As brother Adso wanted her to, she was going to join a group directed to Rome. She had already noticed one of such groups, very loud people, telling all and sundry they would leave at dawn. She would find them immediately. But eventually she decided to give herself a good wash first, the last order the monk had given her, and went looking for the bathhouse.

**(Adso)**

Seeing the object of his desire morph from boy to girl filled Adso with infinite wonder. Concealed by darkness, keeping still as a statue and not breathing at all, he continued to watch, enraptured. Was her name really Aligi? He wondered. Couldn't be, surely. Whatever the name was, in the meanwhile his new obsession concluded her ablutions and left. Then the vampire left too, finding his way to the hostel's church, where he knelt for hours, apparently praying, while actually trying to rein in his strong emotions. Aligi was a woman and his desire for her was natural and wonderful. Despite having thought for a long time about what Omodeo had told him, he could not help to be relieved that the object of his desire was not of his same sex. One point of normalcy in a very abnormal existence. But, what was he going to do about it? Now, more than ever, he felt that the young pilgrim should not reach Petrina and die there.

Indeed, to have his stony body and his dead heart awakened for the first time after his change was something too precious to waste. He wanted the woman as men do, in any possible way, while the desire for her blood was quite low in his list of priorities. He had wondered if what he felt was love even when he did not know the truth. Could Aligi be his mate? Everything pointed in that direction, because the sudden, unquenchable desire had been mixed with the need to know her better and to protect her. The incredible thing was that she too felt something for him, obviously. Her reckless kiss, which had filled him with horror, now was a memory he would cherish forever. But how could he mate with a human and not crush her with his passion, restraining his strength and his thirst? He had never heard of a similar case, or, better, the only cases he knew of said that the human had to become a vampire, before mating became possible.

At this point, things got very complicated indeed, because he had never turned anybody and did not know if he could do it without killing her. In any case, even if he managed it successfully, he would damn her soul exactly as he felt his own to be damned. Was he so cruel and selfish to do such a thing to her?

Whatever had compelled Aligi to dress like a man and become a pilgrim surely must have a honest explanation, he told himself. After all, a girl could not easily travel alone and unprotected, and the reason she had given him, namely that she had gone on a pilgrimage to atone for her father's sins, was believable. He wanted to believe it, wanted to believe in the innocence and goodness of his beloved. And, if she was innocent and good, how could he contemplate changing her into a bloodthirsty monster such as himself?

Hours passed and Adso could not find any definite solution for his conflicting yearnings. What he would have liked to do was to run away with her, leaving the rest of the pilgrims in Santa Maria and to hell with them. He would tell her he knew her real nature and reveal his much darker one. Then he would put himself at her mercy and accept whatever she decided.

So strong was the pull to do just this that he almost went to look for her. She had probably retired in the men's dormitory now and he could go there without problems. Maybe he **should** go there anyway, because she was a tender and frail girl, surrounded by males. What if somebody discovered her secret? What if somebody tried to…have his way… He realized he was growling and checked himself.

He could not go where she was sleeping, he realized. In the hostel he had been given an individual cubicle, out of respect for his habit, and it would look strange if he didn't make use of it. Besides, the idea of running away with her, even if she agreed to follow him, was a folly. Once his coven learned that he had disappeared, they would set Ruby after him and he would be found. That was the Volturi way. He had left with a mission to accomplish and, if he did not complete it, he would be punished, and Aligi with him.

No, there was no way out. He had to convince Aligi to join another group, bring his flock to Petrina to be slaughtered and take a leave of absence only after that. The members of his coven were not slaves, after all, and he could request alone time when his job was done. Valued as he was, he was not the only lure. Only, he could not allow for Aro to read him, before he left. Once free he would look for Aligi, who would be still travelling to Rome, surely. It was a long trip, but Adso could cover the distance in a very short time, by running. He could not imagine what would happen when he found the girl again, but it was impossible not to follow her.

Having decided his course, unsatisfying as it was, the vampire went to look for his sleeping arrangement. At least, being alone, he would not need to lie down and fake sleep. Tomorrow he would speak with Aligi again. It would be easy to tell her that it was not proper that she continued with his group – considering the improper thing that had just passed between them. He forbade his thoughts to dwell on the pain the separation would represent for him, and for her too, probably. He would make sure that the new pilgrimage she joined was led by accountable members of the clergy, capable to ensure that their flock was well protected even in Rome. And then… it was just a matter of time. But find her again he would.

**(Guerrino)**

Guerrino was a competent apothecary. Only, nothing that he had tried during the pestilence had worked. Not washing the affected with vinegar, not lancing the buboes and then applying poultices of resin, roots of white lilies and dried human excrements, not drinking elixirs made of powdered egg shells and marigold, not bleeding with leeches. None of it. One patient out of three had not survived, with or without remedies. And, finally, Guerrino himself had caught it.

Now, after so many months, he had not forgotten what had compelled him to make the vow. He had been afraid of death, abjectly afraid. Because he was going to roast in hell, no doubt about it. In his plague-induced delirium, the faces of the women he had wronged had come to torment him. Violante, Piccarda, Gilda, so many others and finally her, Agnese. The one who had died, drowning herself, had manifested in his feverish brain. Dripping wet, covered in mud and weeds, she had hovered over him:

"I am damned," her pale lips had hissed. "But you will join me soon, so soon…"

Guerrino was ugly: he had a harelip badly sewed up and chicken pox had left his face a wasteland of scars. As a youth, he had been sickly too. So, despite the fact that he was going to be an apothecary like his father, his future ensured and safe with the guild, a satisfactory marriage could not be arranged for him. Or, rather, a union could have been arranged, but only with very undesirable girls, when it came to looks, virtue or dowry.

He still suffered the normal cravings of a male, though, and could only resort to self-relief. Bitter and frustrated, he had concentrated on getting rich, richer than powders and potions could make him. He started to lend money secretly, with a reasonable interest rate. It was easy for people in need to visit an apothecary and ask for money, instead of a medicine, and none would be the wiser. Nobody wanted it known that they had financial troubles, and he offered perfect confidentiality. In this way, Guerrino's coffers had quickly filled up.

Then, one fateful day, a pretty young wife had asked for a medicine – one of her children had a cough – but could not pay for it. Or, better, she could not pay with coins, but in nature she could. And so Guerrino took the pleasure of her flesh as payment. After that, wanting more of the experience, he had refined his act. When a good-looking woman came to his shop and they were alone, it was easy to bring the conversation to money troubles – who didn't have those? – and then hint that he could help make all those troubles go away. Once the money was lent, two things could happen: the debtor paid up, and that was that, or she couldn't, and then she was told that there were other ways to repay what was due. Some of the women cried, others stormed, but very often they could not let it be known to their families or to their husbands that they had contracted a debt. Eventually, they caved in. All in all, Guerrino spent very pleasurable hours on the couch he had placed in the shop's back room. Which is much more than could be said for his conquests. All of them closed their eyes. One even held her nose as Guerrino spent himself into her body.

He didn't care. Until Agnese, that is. He had never known why she had needed the money. But she had a husband she loved, and would not betray him. So, finding herself between a rock and a hard place, Agnese had chosen to jump into the river.

Guerrino had been appalled by this development and also very scared. What if the woman had confided in somebody before her death? What if her husband discovered the truth behind his wife's action? He would surely exact revenge.

Then the pestilence came, the husband died of it and, with the terrible death tribute exacted by the plague, Agnese's inexplicable suicide had been forgotten. Some time later, finding himself on the verge of death, the apothecary had felt the full force of his guilt. Like many before and after him, he had asked God to spare his life. If he recovered, he promised, he would go on a pilgrimage and give generous alms.

And so he was here in Siena, following brother Adso. He was not sure of the decision he had made about going to Saint Marcus' shrine instead of Rome. Probably it was not penance enough, since, after a long time, the nightmare had presented itself again, with Agnese's pale face beckoning to him. Guerrino woke drenched in cold sweat and, fearing to fall asleep and dream again of the woman who haunted him, went outside the dormitory, to get some fresh air. It was dawn and other people were stirring. In the cloister he found the young pilgrim, Aligi, all dressed and packed.

"Please, _Messer_ Guerrino," the boy said, "can I ask you a favor?"

**(Adso)**

The vampire had spent a horrible night. The memory of what he had seen in the bathhouse had not given him a moment of peace. The perfection of the female body he had seen unveiled, the small and pert breasts with their rosy peaks, the slim waist, the delicious curve of her hip – how could he have not seen that the somehow baggy clothes were concealing an enticing feminine form? – had ignited his desires to a bursting point. His arousal had been such that, for the first time in his life and un-life, he had had to put his hands on himself. Afterward, disgusted with his weakness, he had escaped his cubicle and gone outside. The early morning sky promised a beautiful day. As there was no reason to give an early call to his charges, because they would stay another day in Siena, he set himself to wait.

A voice called him:

"Brother Adso, a word, if you please." It was Guerrino, the apothecary.

In this way Adso learned that Aligi had left Santa Maria della Scala already a couple of hours before, committing her apologies to Guerrino and not giving a hint about her destination. It took all of the vampire's self control not to throw the apothecary against a wall, as the harbinger of bad news he involuntarily was. Under his stony façade despair engulfed him. He had lost her.

Endnotes

Reviews?

_Desire…natural and wonderful_. This is what Adso thinks, not me. Despite speaking with Omodeo, he is still conventional enough to feel enormously relieved not to be gay.


	8. Chapter 8 Monteriggioni

**The Pilgrimage by Camilla10**

Chapter 8 - Monteriggioni

_Previously in chapter 7_

_It took all of the vampire's self control not to throw the apothecary against a wall, as the harbinger of bad news he involuntarily was. Under his stony façade despair engulfed him. He had lost her._

**(Masino)**

"_Christ's blood, is the monk possessed, damn him? We were meant to stay two days in Siena, but, no sir, now we are running to Monteriggioni like our arses are on fire.… Well, at least the bitch is sweating a fountain, so even she, the ice statue, is affected. As for the notary, that filthy swine, he is huffing and puffing, his face darker than a plum. I hope he has a syncope, the bastard. But for darling mother, yes, my mother, who is more of a whore than if she opened her legs at crossroads, there is not a chance of her dying. Nothing ruffles her. Everything slides over her like water on a duck. Oh, but the day I'll go to the magistrates she will shake, she will…"_

Indeed, Masino wanted to make Velia - and Cosimo, who was her partner in crime - tremble and squirm, thus he had penned anonymous letters to both of them. Then, after destroying their peace of mind, he would strike. He had the means to do it. And the determination as well.

It had happened a few days after Lena's death and after he had discovered the depth of his mother's perfidy. He was wallowing in impotent fury when he had heard the whispered conversation between Velia and the notary. That very night he had introduced himself in his dead uncle's – well, almost uncle's – house. The deceased was laid out in the front room, but there were not visitors at this hour and the two old servants, a man and his wife, were snoring instead of keeping vigil.

So, thanks to some childhood memory which gave him the lay of the land, he had been able to get to the wine merchant's bedroom. A quick search made him locate an un-notarized draft of the original will, the one that left everything to the Church, the one the notary had with him and proposed his mother to substitute with a forgery. With the precious paper in his hands, he had left silently as he had entered. Then he had let them do the crime: his time would come. Now, a draft alone would not suffice, probably, and his words would be negated by Velia and Cosimo, two against one. But, considering that the Church was the real beneficiary and would have a vested interest in having the will leaving everything to Velia declared a forgery, he might succeed.

Masino had to wait to be a legal adult, otherwise he could not denounce anybody. Of course, once justice was invoked, his mother's fortune would be lost to him, but he didn't care. He would get what small portion his father had bequeathed him and be content with it. Provided his mother paid for what she had done to him and to Lena.

Lena, the laundress' daughter, an unsuitable bride for his son, Velia must have thought. And so she had set herself to prevent further damages to her plans for Masino.

The scene about the missing jewels - earrings and a gold chain – was faultlessly executed. The discovery of the earrings in the folds of Lena's shawl had followed. Masterful. As for the chain, it must have been stolen earlier, had perhaps already been sold. At least that was the current opinion in the house, while they waited for the bailiffs.

Frozen, Masino had done nothing, full of doubts, wondering if it was possible that Lena had really taken them, that she was only after his money, that she was building a nest egg in case she didn't manage to seduce him into marriage. What an idiot he had been! But things had happened so fast. Lena had cried for a long time, but she couldn't even find the words to exculpate herself. Then, abruptly, she had made a run for it, surprising everybody. The morning after she had been found dead in the woods. No suicide, no foul play, just fate at its most spiteful and merciless. The path she had been walking on had been narrow, steep and made slippery by the rain. A small landslide above her corpse testified to the accident.

However, the smug satisfaction he had seen on his mother's face had alerted Masino that maybe things were not what they seemed. That, and the fact that now, finally, he had time to grieve and to remember. Remember how Lena had given herself to him, freely, lovingly, never asking for marriage. He had offered it, though, while she had said that his mother would never allow it. So they were waiting for him to come of age, enjoying their secret tryst, now that the dark days of the pestilence had passed. Everywhere life was reaffirming itself and they were not an exception.

Not knowing what he was looking for, but extremely suspicious, he had searched his mother's room and eventually he had found the necklace, very well concealed, but not well enough. It was too precious to risk, maybe the bailiffs would confiscate it, Velia must have thought; the earrings would suffice for the false accusation.

Now the hate that Masino felt for his mother was almost overpowering. And planning his revenge was the only thing that gave him peace.

X0XOXOXOXOXOX

**(Adso)**

"Brother Adso, please Brother, slow down! Baldo can't keep up."

Somehow the butcher's plea was heard by the monk, so the out-of-breath pilgrims resumed walking at a more sedate pace.

The vampire found it difficult to remember that he was supposed to lead his flock to Monteriggioni. He was consumed by the need to find Aligi. Every step he took was widening the distance between them. He wanted to end his mission as soon as he could, deliver his hampering appendages to their fate so he could try to find her.

Eventually he had told everybody that to remain another day in Siena was not a good idea, after all. They had better leave today. As the season advanced and the good weather endured, he had explained, more people would come on the Romea and they risked being unable to find comfortable accommodations. He had blabbered on, knowing that they were going to believe and obey him, since that was his talent.

Maybe she had indeed found a group going to Rome. If not, how could he trace her? Unfortunately, he was no tracker. Ruby, who would not have minded an intimate encounter with him, had added some knowledge of tracking to her lures, and Adso had been very attentive, if not accommodating. He did not desire her, however. In fact he had never desired anybody, after Tanya and before Aligi, but he would have liked to learn tracking. Alas, talents were innate. You could enhance yours, but not acquire a new one.

_Hell_, he cursed in his mind, where was she? Adso realized he did not know anything about Aligi, not even her real name, nor her surname, nor her town. If she had abandoned the Romea he might never find her again, never. He would not survive, if that were the case. All he had been told about the mating bond - and he had disbelieved - now had become manifest, testified by his longing, his anguish, his need to be with her. No, he had better hope that she was indeed going to Rome, dangerous as that city was.

The sun was setting when the group reached the place where pilgrims were to sleep when they passed by Monteriggioni. The walled town, crowned with towers, hosted a garrison, ostensibly to protect the road from bandits (and from Florentine soldiers, should their war against Siena start again) but was not open to travelers: They were meant to rest their bones in the hostelry of Castiglion Ghinibaldi, admiring the fortress from afar. By and large, it was better this way, another steep climb avoided.

On the last leg of their walk Adso was joined by Masino, who apparently wanted to speak with him. But when he tried, he was tongue-tied and ended up asking about the road ahead of them, and what they would find in Petrina. Adso told him the legend of Saint Marcus, a saint who had never existed, but the boy was distracted, not really paying attention.

While the pilgrims filed inside the gate of Castiglion Ghinibaldi, Adso counted heads, mentally recapping what he knew about them. Velia with her son Masino and her friend the notary, Omodeo with his pain, Bonizella, the handsome woman who seemed very pious, but maybe was not, the butcher and his poor brother, the former wet nurse, the midwife with her shrewd eyes, the ugly apothecary, two timid middle-aged sisters who made a living with embroidery, a farrier and even a painter of not great fame, with his apprentice.

Adso had overheard the latter saying to the butcher that his master, Leonello, was looking for work and not for atonement in the holy places he visited. Then there was a beekeeper, then a cheese maker, then a baker, then… Now his flock comprised twenty-four pilgrims, a good harvest. All of them people with a life, with sins to repent of, with dreams and hopes, but just blood flasks for the fake monks and the so-called nuns who waited for them hungrily.

But not Aligi, not her. She had escaped this fate.

It was in moments like this that the full horror of his existence hit him the most. Why had he remained with the Volturi? It was one thing to quench his thirst, but quite another to serve the needs of others and be responsible for so many deaths… At the beginning, he had had no choice, and to find himself in the company of people with his same cravings, that they did not considered monstrous, but just natural, had even been a comfort. Plus, he had needed to learn everything about his new condition.

Once arrived in Volterra, where originally the holy relic was located, in a small monastery within the walls, he had been fascinated by the coven's leader and Aro had been fascinated by him. A real monk, by God, well, almost, and talented… He was made very welcome. Finally, it was the fear of loneliness that had made him stay, year after year.

However, from the very beginning, Adso had refused to take an active part in any religious ceremony, apart from leading the choir when needed. Hardened as he was becoming, the idea of celebrating Mass or administering sacraments had been too repulsive. That was a capital sin he would not add to his already heavy burden. Other members of their unholy congregation – a couple of them real priests before their change – performed the rites with no qualms, as did Aro. In any case, the occasions where the monks of the Order of Saint Marcus were obliged to put up a show for the faithful were rare. Mainly, it was during Saint Marcus' festivities and a few other occasions. The order was reclusive and local worshippers were not encouraged, apart from designated times.

The move to Petrina had made these occasions even less frequent. As for the pilgrims, on arrival they sang a Te Deum in the upper chapel - to thank God for their safe arrival – and were given some simple refreshments, then were led to confession and never resurfaced.

Later that evening Adso was restless. He had to spend the night in a common dormitory, this time, and the smell of the humans disturbed him, making lying down and feigning sleep practically impossible . After a while, he realized he was thirsty. Very thirsty. Strange, because he had fed just a few days before and normally he would not have needed blood so soon. But his throat burned unbearably and trying to distract himself was no help, because his mind was completely conquered and controlled and captivated by one single memory.

With his perfect recall he saw Aligi as she had appeared to him in the bathhouse, gloriously naked, rosy and wet. And then despair engulfed him, because he didn't know if he would find her again. "_And it would be a good thing_," what remained of his conscience told him_, "because you are a monster and you should leave her well alone. Be happy that she is gone, be happy that she is saved…" _

Near him the apothecary was snoring in such an annoying way that he wanted to plunge his teeth in his neck just to make him stop. At almost vampire speed, Adso rose from the bed and ran outside. There was nothing else he could do. He needed to hunt.

Endnotes

The information about legal adulthood in the Middle age and particularly in Tuscany, is scant and contradictory, so I am being vague about Masino's age. Until he was considered an adult he would need his parents' consent to marry and could not stand in Court. So, let's say he is probably around 16 (yeah, he had sex at 15 or so – different rules applied at the time), and his mother exerted guardianship, maybe through some cowed male of her own family. However, with the Black Death so many people had died that even a female could have guardianship, eventually.

I am not going to give you the bios of all the pilgrims following Adso, obviously. Some of them will go to their death anonymously, more is the pity.

A _farrier_, I am told, is what I would call a horse-shoer(Thank you, Miaokuancha!)

Remember, if you are confused, that the list of characters can be seen on my other story "Confession".


	9. Chapter 9 Hunters

**The Pilgrimage by Camilla10**

Chapter 9 - Hunters

_Previously in Chapter 8_

_At almost vampire speed, Adso rose from the bed and ran outside. There was nothing else he could do. He needed to hunt. _

**(A nomad)**

Feral and deadly, the nomad moved silently in the forest, his senses attuned to that for which he was searching. He had just passed a tiny village on a clearing that the path crossed and had almost stopped there. The huts' rickety walls and frail shutters wouldn't have been able to keep him out, had he decided to feed on the humans slumbering inside. But he preferred to find somebody walking the woods as he was. The need to protect the secret was so ingrained that, even in the red haze that devoured his consciousness, he knew that making somebody just vanish was better than leaving witnesses, or carnage. Plus, people going around at this ungodly hour were most likely up to no good, so it could be said that they deserved what was going to happen to them.

And then he saw his prey. A man was setting traps near a stream, where animals probably came to drink. The simple fact that he was doing this work at night meant that he was a poacher, with no rights in these woods; just what was needed. Maybe, as an added bonus, he could take the trapper's garments too, if they weren't too bad. His were in tatters.

He was poised to strike when he felt a new presence.

There was another man approaching the trapper. Only, he was not a man. No heartbeat, and a distinctive sweet scent. Another immortal then, stalking the prey the nomad wanted for himself. He prepared for the fight, suppressing the growls which would have alerted the human. By concentrating on his adversary he realized, however, that the vampire was wearing a monk's cowl. That indicated he belonged to a most powerful coven, the Volturi, something you messed with at your risk. Still, he wanted the poacher.

**(Adso)**

Adso assessed the nomad dispassionately. Not a particularly impressive specimen. Thirsty and angry as he was, he felt more than ready to fight him, if challenged. Learning how to fight had been part of his training, after he joined the Volturi, and he was good at it. They might look like monks, but they were in fact warriors at the service of their leaders, ready to go on missions or administer justice according to need. And Aro wanted his warriors to prevail every time, so that in the immortal world they would remain respected and feared.

Unwilling to alert his prey, but mindful of the noises a fight would produce, Adso threw a small stone at the unsuspecting poacher's head. He had calculated strength and trajectory perfectly and the human folded, unconscious but still alive. Adso crouched, ready to launch himself at the other vampire.

At this point the nomad had his worst fears confirmed: the "monk" was a trained fighter, tall, strong and in top form. As he was not ready to die this night, he had to concede.

"Take him, then," he said, "I'll get myself a boar, instead."

Stunned, not believing his own ears, Adso heard himself asking:

"Boar? What do you mean?" Assuming a less threatening stance, he rose and waited for the answer. Never, he felt, he had wanted information more ardently. The other immortal relaxed.

"Yes, boar. Don't you know it, Brother vampire? Animals have blood too, and it is nourishing. Unappetizing, if compared to what humans offer, but far better than drinking from people with the plague. Or were you able to avoid that… muck?"

Adso had indeed imbibed the tainted blood of the sick, and only wished he could forget the taste.

"So, during the pestilence I tried to drink from animals," the nomad continued," and it worked for me. Still works, if nothing better is available. Boars and wolves are the best, but deer are fine too, and so are pigs, horses and cows. Sometime I found farms where all people had died, but the animals were still living."

With those few sentences Adso's universe turned upside down. Animals, animals, he could feed from animals! Difficult to believe, though. Maybe the nomad was lying, why had nobody told him that before? Did the Volturi know? No matter: it had to be tried. He could barely contemplate the implications, if the nomad was telling the truth. He gestured toward the poacher, still out cold.

"Have him yourself, if you want. I'll try animals. And thank you." He turned on his heels and started running into the deep of the forest. The nomad's laughter followed him.

"No, thank **you**. Humans taste better, believe me. But, if you intend to hunt animals, you should undress. Killing them cleanly is an art that took time for me to master."

And so it happened that Adso, completely naked, as monks did not use braies, set off for his first animal hunt.

Up to this day, when running in a forest, he had paid attention to wild animals only to avoid alarming them, lest they went on a rampage and maybe alerted humans to his presence. Now he actually wanted to find a suitable one. When he was far from any beaten path he stilled, perched on a low branch, and waited, straining his sense of smell and his perfect hearing.

Sometime later his patience was rewarded. The first thing he felt was the odor, pungent and strong, then the sound of hooves rasping the ground, then grunts and oinks and, finally, a herd of boars came out from the bushes.

What seemed to be the leading male was a big brute of a beast: brawny and be-tusked, it had a massive chest and shielded shoulders that covered powerful muscles. Oblivious of the predator above, not being used to the scent of vampires, the boar started scratching against the tree's bark. Adso could hear the beat of a strong heart, pumping the blood he was so keen to try. He leaped on the animal and it reacted violently, trying to dislodge him, while the rest of the herd scattered. "_It must weigh more than a grown man_," thought the vampire "_but even a grown man is no match for me…"_ The hunt was exciting, the boar's feistiness pleased him, even when its wild bucks made him slip from its back and, fearless, the animal attacked. Its tusks slid over the granite skin producing no damage, while they would have shredded the cowl, had Adso been wearing it. He grasped the tusks firmly and pressed down, while twisting the boar's head until he heard a satisfying crack. Now, how did one drink from it?

His sharp teeth pierced bristles and sinews. He spat the morsel out and finally applied his mouth to the wound, sucking greedily. Warm, rich blood coursed down his parched throat soothing it. Yes, it was different from the human variety, but it was still blood, spicy and gamey, with a hint of acorn… At least the boar, differently from domestic pigs, did not reek of shit.

Setting the empty carcass aside, Adso sat on his heels, resignedly waiting for the usual bout of nausea. Well, if he vomited, at least he was naked. He waited. Nothing happened. He didn't feel nauseous at all. In fact he felt quite well, replete. His throat was still burning a little, which normally was not the case, immediately after feeding, but it was a muted pain and he could stand it.

Oh God, it was true, he could live off animals, he didn't need to kill people for survival. Somehow he found himself kneeling. If he could cry, he would now. For decades he had not prayed, unless it was in public, for make believe reasons, but now he was mumbling Christ's very words:

"_Pàter nòster__, qui es in caelis,_

_sanctificètur nomen tùum, advèniat regnum tùum…._

He could not continue the _Our Father, _though. Much as he felt the need to thank God for this miracle, he was far from saved: just one hour before he had left a human in the clutches of another vampire without even a passing thought, let alone a pang of guilt. And he had still to deliver his flock to Petrina… No, he was damned, for what he had done and for what he would do again. It was useless to pray, nobody in Heaven would heed him. But, if he could drink from animals, he would live better with himself, at least. Something, however, told him that he should keep this information private. He feared that Aro knew of it and kept it secret.

He retraced his steps, found his tunic and cowl and took off toward Monteriggioni.

As he was reaching his destination he decided, on a whim, to see the sunrise from some elevated point. So, instead of going to the hostelry, he made a rapid ascent to the walled town. As nobody would open the closed gates for him, he simply scaled a wall -it was still dark enough not to be seen - and then sat on top of one of the towers. The slanting rays of early morning illuminated a seemingly infinite roll of low hills, some of them heavily wooded. He thought of rebirth. Many of the fields looked untended after the pestilence had killed so many. But now life had resumed, and soon they would again produce wheat, hay, olives, grapes…

There was no rebirth for vampires, however, they would remain as they were, unchanged… Not supreme predators, after all, but just parasites, feeding on life and giving nothing in return.

Inside the fortress humans stirred, there were voices and noises. Time to disappear and resume his mission, one that he found more and more hateful as time passed. He would look for Aligi, he promised to the rising sun, he would move heaven and earth to find her but, in any case, even if he failed and survived the failure, he would not return to the Volturi. He was done with being a lure; this was the last time.

In Castiglion Ghinibaldi he found that nobody has missed him. His pilgrims were well rested and ready to reach Badia a Coneo, a rather longish walk, but a place where the Cistercian monks were sure to provide a generous hospitality. From there to San Gimignano it would be only a few miles, the next day.

"Did you have your breakfast, Brother?" enquired Duccio cordially. "Look, a peasant boy came and for a few coppers he sold us raviggioli. I have kept one for you," he sad offering the soft, fresh cheese enveloped in leaves. "Better than pecorino, surely, this early in the morning!"

Everybody was beaming, looking at him expectantly, while Adso's brain worked at super speed to find a way out from this predicament. He didn't find any and took the plunge, muttering his thanks and swallowing quickly the revolting produce. Of all the human foods, milk and derivatives were what disgusted him most, while fruit was the easiest thing for him to manage, if he had to, because the smell was pleasant. But he needed to purge himself of that also. As for the raviggiolo, better to dispose of it immediately.

Discretely making people think that he needed a leak before leaving, Adso closeted himself into the privies, glad that, out of respect, nobody had followed him there. Unfortunately, some of the boar's blood he had ingested previously had not been completely transformed into venom yet, and he had to lose that too. But he could go for animals again, whenever he felt thirsty. It was unbelievable how much better this perspective made him feel.

Thus, with a lighter foot, he led his followers out of Castiglion Ghinibaldi.

If Adso's controlled gait remained springy, the same could not be said for the pilgrims a few hours later. He had encouraged them to sing, a religious song to be sure, and for a while the sweet notes of the Marian antiphon _Ave Regina Caelorum _filled the air. After some time, however, they needed all their breath just to walk, as the road went up and down. He allowed for a long lunch break, and another stop when they found a fountain.

Their destination was almost in sight when the monk proposed pausing in front of a rustic chapel shadowed by tall cypresses. His experience told him that if people reached their hosting place having rested a little, they settled in better: everything went more smoothly, as it was less likely that there were discussions and bickering due to fatigue.

Sturdily built with bricks, the chapel had a very simple single nave, with a small naïve fresco of Saint Christopher, protector of travelers, painted on a niche over the altar. A tiny side door led to a small chamber, where an officiating priest could dress himself and a weary traveler could rest for a while, or find shelter from the rain. On the Romea such comfort points were not infrequent and usually they were not vandalized. There was no furniture, but for a few bales of old hay on which people could sit or rest. They were about to resume their walk when Adso, with his inhuman hearing, heard the noise of a furious gallop. As the horse came nearer, the pilgrims could also hear it and looked curiously at the road bend where the horseman would appear.

He appeared, but he was not a horse_man_. At breakneck speed Aligi was rejoining the pilgrimage.

Endnotes

Thank you for reading. Please, if you can, take the time to review.

**Raviggiolo** is a delicate cheese different from ricotta, yoghurt or cottage cheese. I would describe it, improperly, as milk curd. It can be made both with cow and sheep milk. Pecorino is a typical sheep cheese, very tasty, with a consistence that goes from semi fresh to very hard.

**Ave Regina Caelorum** (Hail O Queen of Heaven) is one of four Marian antiphons, with following versicles and prayers, traditionally recited or sung after each of the canonical times of the Liturgy of the Hours. The origins of the prayer are unknown, but it is included in a twelfth century manuscript. Our pilgrims would be chanting the Gregorian version, as the one by Dufuy had yet to be composed.


	10. Chapter 10 Horsewoman

**The Pilgrimage by Camilla10**

Chapter 10 – Horsewoman

Yes, in this chapter Adso and Alina surrender to passion.

**I am updating very early because the Pilgrimage has been nominated for the Wordsmith Awards and I try to give it a chance. The story is up as Best Non Canon, Adso is up for Best Original Character and Camilla10 is up as Best Author.**

**It will be possible to vote till Saturday, if you feel so inclined. I give the link with some spaces added, but you can also google Wordsmith Awards and get there. BTW, look for Raum and for Jmolly in other categories!**

**(http:/ wordsmithawards. /)**

_Previously in Chapter 9_

_He appeared, but he was not a horse_man_. At breakneck speed Aligi was rejoining the pilgrimage._

**(Alina)**

Alina dismounted, while the pilgrims surrounded her. Apparently, they were very happy to see their youngest member again. Swamped by a barrage of questions, her eyes sought Adso, who held himself apart. Under his hood, the monk's face, usually very pale, seemed paler still, and furious.

She knew she could not avoid giving a few explanations, and so she did.

"I joined a big group going to Rome," she said, "but they… well, I didn't like the company. So I came back."

"How did you find a horse? Did you buy it?" Vanna the midwife enquired, wondering how much money the supposed young man had, and if she should make her move..

"No, I** had** my own horse, Morello. When I arrived in Siena from… home," and here she was very careful not to name Arezzo, because her uncle might still be looking for her. Maybe by now he had discovered that she was not with her mother's sister in Florence.

"I had Morello stabled in town," Alina continued, "because I knew most pilgrims went on foot. There were no groups going South that day, however, so, to reach San Galgano where I hoped to find company, I bought a passage in a cart. But the big party I joined in Siena two days ago was using horses and mules, so I retrieved my mount."

She went on explaining that the group she had travelled with for a day was very secular – rich and vulgar people, as their choice to ride to Rome testified – and, disgusted by them, she had thought again about her decision.

What she didn't tell them was the night of agony she has spent finding herself again in San Galgano, the place where she had met **him** for the first time. She had felt like suffocating: passion consumed her. Finally, the idea of not seeing his handsome face again was so painful that shame, caution, all that she should be feeling, counted for nothing. And so, unable to resist any longer, she had taken her horse and gone back to the monk who was forbidden to her but had awakened her body and conquered her heart.

Alas, he was no longer in Siena, they had left earlier than she thought. Frenzied, she had continued on the road, bypassed Monteriggioni and finally found them here, almost killing her horse in the attempt.

**(Adso)**

_She's here, damn it! Reckless, stubborn woman, she will die if she continues with us. But this game has gone too far. We need to speak. I have to put some fear in her._

Relief battled with fury inside Adso's unbeating heart. But the discussion he needed to have with her had to wait. So, with his most commanding tone, he told the pilgrims that they should resume their walk immediately. Aligi walked with the others, leading her horse by the bridle and graciously offering to let the animal carry the women's sacks on its back, an offer that was accepted gratefully by the older ones.

While they progressed he could not avoid looking at Aligi all the time, much as he tried to force himself not to, and he noticed that Vanna was walking with her. Since some of the pilgrims were singing again, happy to be finally reaching their destination for the night, he could not hear what was said, but the exchange did not end well and they separated abruptly. What he didn't notice was that Bonizella was watching him intently, concealing a spiteful smile.

Later that evening, after they had reached the Badia, everybody had settled in and Vespers had been sung, Adso went to look for Aligi. He found her in the stables, taking care of her horse. Actually, she was soaking one of its feet in a bucket. Morello had been limping, she explained, and therefore, very worried, she had checked and found a pebble stuck in the hoof. Now she had carefully removed it. Other than that, there was nothing seriously wrong with the animal, she hoped, but it was very tired and should have a good rest now. Maybe even carrying a few pieces of luggage after the long quest and the final gallop had been too much. Fortunately, tomorrow they had only a few miles to go until they reached San Gimignano... She went on and on in this vein, obviously very nervous.

Adso put a cold finger over her mouth and the jolt they experienced surprised them both.

"Aligi," he said, trying to suppress the emotion her soft lips had given him, "I know you are a woman. Why the disguise? I want the truth from you, all the truth."

"Did... did Vanna tell you?" She asked with a trembling voice.

Oh Hell, other people knew, then. This also had to be addressed… But not now.

"No, she didn't. But I discovered it all the same. Very little escapes me, you know," he answered, adding, as firmly as he could manage:

"We need to speak, but not here, it's not private enough. Improper as it is, you must come to my cell. I have been given a single one on the outer courtyard, far from the closured area and separated from the dormitories by other empty cells. Go to eat and then come. I'll be waiting for you there after Compline. Take care not to be noticed."

Under the flickering light of the candle he had lit for her, Adso waited. Despite his nature he could not remain still, but paced his cell, formulating plans. Surely the fact that she was a woman and somebody already knew it was enough to convince her not to continue with them. Could he make her wait for him somewhere until he had done what he had to do, so he could leave Petrina and join her?

When she knocked lightly at his door, however, all scheming was forgotten. She had found the time to wash and from her still wet hair her distinctive cinnamon and lavender scent was overwhelming.

"You are not Aligi, what is your real name?" That was the only thing he wanted to know, needed to know.

"Alina," she whispered, and it sounded like the only name in the universe, the only name he could remember among millions of irrelevant names.

This time he did not wait for her to take the first step. Carefully, oh so carefully, he took her in his arms and kissed her. Her warm lips yielded to his cold ones, her mouth molded on his, then, opening, her hot tongue warmed his and her taste was sweeter than blood, sweeter than anything he had tasted before.

She wrapped her arms around his neck. His hands were lost in her short, dark locks for a while, then started roaming around, caressing her wherever he could reach.

Abruptly she stopped the kiss and looked at him, her grey eyes stormy like the sea in winter.

"I tried, but I couldn't stay away from you, I am too weak," she almost cried, "and now I am damned, we are both damned, you are a monk and I...

Adso interrupted her.

"I am surely damned, Alina, in more ways that you can conceive, but I promise you I am not a monk."

"You are not bound to the Church? No vows?"

"No."

With a sort of desperation she pushed herself against him and found his mouth again. Suddenly, things became very simple. He longed for the woman concealed under the male attire and wanted to see her. Resisting the urge to just rip her clothes off, he took the time to unwrap her gently. Like a glorious butterfly from its dead cocoon the tender feminine body emerged from the masculine garments, too beautiful for words. Now Adso's habit was also a hindrance and so it was shed, along with his tunic. Awed, they admired each other's nakedness.

**(Alina and Adso)**

White, well muscled, powerful, Adso's body enchanted her. Things that should concern her – such as what was he doing in a cowl, if he was not a monk? - went unheeded. Even the coolness of his skin was but a passing thought. It refreshed her feverish limbs, set on fire by his touch, and it was enough. Hands caressed, explored, mouths licked and kissed, new delights were discovered. Alina's involuntary moans were matched by the loud rumble emanating from Adso's chest, but even that didn't register, because now she was feeling all of him. Thick and hard, his manhood pressed on her stomach, igniting a fire in her body that only he could quench. Little did she realize the struggle Adso was undergoing, disciplining his strength so as not to crush her but, when her legs opened to welcome him, he could wait no more.

Reclining her pliant body on the narrow pallet, he poised himself at her entrance and, with a swift push, he was sheathed in her. Her whimper of pain and the smell of her blood froze him, though. For a while he stopped breathing… _Deflowered, she was a virgin… I am her first… _Shame and elation battled in the vampire's mind, bloodlust dimmed by other desires. He would not drink from her, even if his throat burned. He would not feed from another human being, after discovering he could use animals, and even less would he hurt the woman he loved. What he wanted was her body; he needed to lose himself in her. His breathing resumed, but, almost fearful to move, he hesitated.

Alina had adjusted to his invasion, the pain was receding and desire was resurfacing again. Her strong horsewoman thighs pressed hard on his sides, spurring him on.

"Don't stop now, don't…" she cried, and Adso could only comply. How could he resist? Plunging into her depths - a well of liquid fire he was drowning in - he miraculously retained some semblance of control, moderating as best as he could the force of his thrusts and the inhuman growls escaping his throat, until finally, blissfully, he spilled his cold release into her.

It was done: he had claimed his mate, his human mate, and he had not killed her. The straw mattress they had been laying on, however, had fared worse. In the throes of his pleasure he must have shredded it here and there, and part of its content had scattered.

The vampire contemplated the mortal girl sleeping in his arms. He wondered why his cold limbs did not disturb her. After their coupling she had seemed unhurt but exhausted, and yet she had tried to stay awake until he had said, with a tenderness that was completely new for him:

"Sleep, my love, sleep. I'll wake you immediately after Matins, We still need to speak, but then you'll have to leave, so that we are not discovered. We can't afford it. I am so sorry."

She had had the strength to caress his face, before surrendering to slumber.

The candle he had lit previously was no more, but the obscurity did not conceal her beauty to his immortal eyes. Yet something marred that perfection. On her upper thighs, at the sides of the groin that had given him such bliss, there were two small round scars. He knew what they were: the reminders of the bubonic plague that had only barely failed to kill her. His heart was unbeating, but he felt it constrict, all the same. She could have died, lost to him long before he met her. To see them filled him with dread, she was so vulnerable, her life a frail thread that could be cut at any moment.

_I will protect her_, he swore to himself, _nothing bad must happen to her from now on_. Later, when he heard the bell chime that called the Cistercians to Matins, he knew he had to wake her. He realized also that the time was not ripe for him to tell her the truth about himself. He had still to lead people to the slaughter, there was no way out of it, and he had not the courage to let Alina know. Horror would overtake her and, what if she tried to save her fellow pilgrims? It would mean a death sentence, for her and for him too. The pilgrims were carrion anyway. They could not be saved, because, should they discover to be destined to become food for vampires, that vampires even existed, they would all be found and eliminated, along with anybody else to whom they told the secret. Aro would take their identities out of his head before killing him, and, anyway, the humans would not get far before they were traced and taken.

No, he would disclose the truth only afterwards, when he could sincerely promise that he would kill no more, and then hope that Alina, his mate, would have pity of him, not withdrawing her love. But he was loath to sully their relationship with dishonesty.

So he lit another candle to dispel the deep darkness of the cell and woke Alina with a kiss, while searching for words that would convince her to wait and yet were not a lie.

Endnotes

I hope you liked this chapter as I liked writing it. If so, please let me know.

Younger member: In fact, Masino was younger than Alina, but they could not know it. Being a girl gave her a very youthful look.

Since I know next to nothing about horses, I owe to FantasyMother for what I have written.

You will have noticed that I speak only of Adso's enjoyment of their lovemaking. As for Alina, maybe not so much. Apart from everything, it was her first time. I believe that all we know about pleasuring women has changed since the Middle Ages. At the time, I am afraid things were faster and blunter. However, lovers could learn, couldn't they? Even in the Middle Ages. I have high hopes for Adso and Alina's subsequent encounters.

Alina is not Adso's singer, obviously. Even in Canon we are told that it is a very rare event. She is his mate, instead, therefore the instinct to protect has already kicked in.


	11. Chapter 11 Alina's Tale

**The Pilgrimage by Camilla10**

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Chapter 11 - Alina's tale

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_Previously …_

_No, he would disclose the truth only afterwards, when he could sincerely promise that he would kill no more, and then hope that Alina, his mate, would have pity of him, not withdrawing her love. But he was loath to sully their relationship with dishonesty._

_So he lit another candle to dispel the deep darkness of the cell and woke Alina with a kiss, while searching for words that would convince her to wait and yet were not a lie._

_._

_._

"Love," Adso began, "you are in danger, and I am in danger too. But I can't tell you about it."

"Why?" Alina asked softly. He obviously had to say more.

"Because I am forbidden to speak about it and, if I do, the danger will increase. We could both be killed."

This, at least, wasn't a lie. But, how to continue? The assuredness he felt when dealing with humans, the capacity to compel, order about, lure, in fact, seemed to desert him when he addressed Alina. Never had he felt so insecure. Still, he had to try. She was silent, but at least she had not moved from his arms yet.

"Can… can you trust me? Just wait for a few days? I'll be free from my duties after that, and then I'll tell you everything." _Yes, and then find a place where not even Ruby can trace us, if it exists._

"I came to you and I let you have your way with me… I would have died if you hadn't," was Alina's surprisingly frank answer. "It is obvious that I trust you. But, if you trusted me, you would tell me the truth," she urged.

As Adso was not answering, she rose angrily from the pallet, adding. "I'd better dress, then, and go. I don't understand. You call me 'love' but you won't tell me anything… If you aren't a monk, who are you?"

_Stubborn, stubborn woman. Weren't females taught obedience?_ Not this one, evidently. But his secrets were too deadly to share, at least for the moment.

He wouldn't allow her to leave him. They still had hours before Prime and his need to know her was at least as strong as her will to know him. So he gathered her in his arms, and felt her melting against his body. Their mating bond worked even where his words did not.

"Alina, I can't tell you who I am. I love you too much to put you at risk. I will tell you, I swear I will. We'll leave together after I have absolved my task," – _hypocrite, calling 'task' the massacre I am about to enable _– "if you will come with me, that is. Will you? Please tell me that you will."

Despite what he was his voice trembled and that, more then everything else, was what made Alina relent.

"Oh God, why can't I deny you anything? Fine, I'll wait. But I won't come with you - I will not - if you don't tell me the truth."

Adso sat on the pallet with Alina in his lap. Fearing she was cold, he enveloped her in the thin blanket provided. The early morning hours were still quite cool. He had won for the moment, but now he needed to know what she had concealed, and that could be another ordeal. What if she got angry again?

"Love, even if I can't tell you my secrets, I need to know yours. I have to, for your safety. Please, tell me what are you running from."

Realizing he had stopped breathing, Adso waited for the eruption. But Alina had reached the end of her resistance. She had been so alone and now she wanted to confide in him, her lover. Plus, his talent was powerful, even if he was unsure of it.

"My uncle, he… Oh, it is complicated. He wanted me to marry his son, my cousin."

"And you didn't want to?"

"No. Tonio… he is not very likeable. And, anyway, it was because my uncle wanted to get his hands on my fortune. Father was a cloth merchant in Arezzo. We are from Arezzo, you know," she added. "We were rich, as he also produced his own wool and had his own looms. If I married Tonio, my husband would get all I owned. I refused, but Uncle Mario had come to live in my house – a young niece living all alone after her father died, I needed protection, he said – _preposterous,_" Alina snorted, "but I was recovering from the plague, there was our business to take care of, and he was insistent. But the worst thing was…"

Here she stopped speaking.

"What was the worst thing?" Adso prodded gently.

"That my uncle was entitled to my patrimony. Morally, he was. Because what I heard from my father on his deathbed was that he cheated his brother out of most of their common inheritance, when grandfather died. Uncle never realized he had been robbed, though. They were on the best of terms. I don't know what my father did, exactly, or how, as most of the time he was delirious, but he felt so guilty. He thought he would burn in Hell for it."

So that was the reason why she wanted to atone for her father's sins, thought Adso. What a burden for a daughter, one with a conscience, as she surely had.

She was crying now, while trying to explain how conflicted she had been.

"In his ramblings he repeated he had done everything for me, not realizing that he had ruined me, instead." Alina wailed.

"For a while," she continued, her voice still faltering, sometime, "I even thought I should indeed marry Tonio, but that would plunge **me** in Hell while still living, and that was not what father had wished for me. And I could not say that I wanted to share with Uncle Mario my wealth, give him the best part of it, even. I wanted to. But then I would have had to explain why, and I could not reveal what father had told me, and let him be known as one so base as to defraud his younger brother." She paused briefly, before speaking again.

"I did not know what to do, until one day Tonio came to my room…"

Adso froze.

"I was of age, and could not be obliged to marry against my will, so they thought that, if he forced me, I would relent... "

From the vampire's chest a low growl escaped, one that should have alarmed Alina, but she was so engrossed in her tale that she barely noticed.

"I fought him with all my might, however, and I am rather strong, for a woman… then Rita came and saved me. She was an old servant of my mother, her nurse in fact, and she had remained with us after Mamma's death. During the plague many servants had either died or fled, but she was faithful. Rita heard my screams and came running to my room, old as she was. Tonio had not the face to continue in front of a witness and left," Alina concluded.

Adso realized that he should have known she had not been violated, as he was the one who had taken her virginity just a few hours before. But he swore to himself that someday he would look for Tonio and obliterate him. For the moment he could only tighten – carefully, always carefully - his arms around her, kissing her hair and her brow, giving what reassurance he could. She had not finished her story yet.

"I was sure my cousin would try again, and Rita could protect me only so much," Alina continued. "She was a mere servant, after all. So I decided to run away. I am a good horsewoman, as you have seen. It was my father's will that I was raised almost like a boy. I had teachers, I learned my letters, some Latin too… And I was even allowed to ride astride, he gave me one of his old riding dresses, from the time he was younger and slimmer. Tall he was not, but he was handsome.

_He had to be, to have fathered you, _Adso thought.

"And he was a wonderful, wonderful father, despite…" Longing and regret colored her words. "He was devoted to my mother's memory, he had loved her so much, he never remarried, theirs had been a love match, despite being arranged, and he told me he would never, never marry me off against my will.

So, you decided to go on a pilgrimage…" he prompted her again.

"Yes, I had vowed to do it when Father died. But I got sick and was very weak for months, after I recovered. Then my uncle and Tonio came to live with me. They would have scoffed at the notion of a pilgrimage. A young woman, alone. Unthinkable. And, maybe, truly dangerous. They would have prevented it at all costs, even if I found a chaperone to go with. Before the issue of marriage even came up, I was already thinking of going dressed as a boy and then, after Tonio tried to rape me, I realized it was the perfect solution. They would eventually contact my aunt and discover I was not there, but they would not think to look for a boy among pilgrims. They would not have any idea where I was.

"I planned my escape carefully. I knew where father had secured some gold for emergencies and I took it, then I took my male riding outfit and a regular saddle from the stables and concealed everything under a thick bush not far from our house. I told Rita I was repairing to my maternal aunt in Florence and in the depth of night I left, dressed like a woman and using a side saddle. I could not tell my servant where I was really going. She would not have been able to keep it secret, when questioned, so it was safer for her just not to know. I changed dress and saddle and then I ran. Before leaving, I also had to cut my hair." She concluded sadly.

Looking at the girl in his arms Adso was shaken by powerful emotions. Here she was, honest, compassionate, resourceful, brave in the face of adversities and incredibly strong. Surely he did not deserve this woman. But he doubted he could renounce her.

He knew the rest of her story, what had happened in San Galgano and after that. Like a rabbit by a snake she had been lured by him far from her set course. However, something didn't add up.

"But, after you reached Saint Peter's shrine, what would have you done?"

"I…I had thought to become a nun in Rome, if some Order accepted me. I thought to pay the convent dowry with the gold I had, and would not tell them my real name. In time, I would be declared dead, and my inheritance would automatically pass to my uncle. Thus justice would be served and my father's sin completely atoned. And I would be spared a distasteful marriage."

A nun! God's hooks, this was really too much! Horrified, Adso thought how she could have been lost to him, her beauty forever immured in a convent. And maybe that could be her choice still, if she refused him, as she well could, once she knew the truth. Her next words, however, surprised him utterly.

"I would not have made a good nun, surely, seeing how wanton I have been with you. I think I wanted you from the first moment I saw your face."

Delighted by her sincerity, so different from the coyness women were supposed to show, he could not help himself.

"I too desired you from the first moment… even when I thought you were a boy," he confessed and, if he could blush, he would have. But he would not lie to her, ever.

He still wanted to know how Vanna had discovered she was a woman, but could not ask, because now her lips were over his, and she was kissing him fiercely, evidently not daunted by his embarrassing declaration. He reciprocated greedily, the blanket fell on the floor and again she was nude, and beautiful, and his.

More in control of his lust than the first time, Adso laid Alina on the bed and took time to cherish her. Seeing again on her upper thighs the two round scars that reminded him of her mortality, he kissed them tenderly. And his nose was hit by the powerful musky smell of her sex. It was more enticing than blood, inspiring his mouth to do things he had never done before. He kissed, he licked, he probed, with her moans of pleasure mapping his path. His fingers added themselves to the exploration, gently discovering the mysteries of her flesh. Her moans became louder, her inner walls contracted against his fingers, his hand got suddenly wet and Adso learned how a woman reacts when her lover takes the trouble to pleasure her. Awed, he promised himself that he would never again deprive Alina and himself of such bliss.

What followed was something so amazing that, even later on, Adso could hardly believe how much this woman, who still didn't know him at all, was capable of understanding him. She contemplated his body, her eyes lingering on his very hard arousal.

"You have bewitched me" she said, "I don't know who you are, but I am yours. I can be for you whatever you want me to be."

Then she rose and, turning her back on him, rolled the head of the ruined straw mattress as to form a cushion of sort and reclined on it, knees bent, offering her body from behind.

Adso was dumbfounded. His mate was pretending to be a boy for him. Yes, he had desired her when he thought she was a boy, and, to his deepest shame, he had fantasized on how he would join his body with a masculine one. But somehow her words, her total acceptance, had exorcised that fantasy, making it superfluous. In any case, he doubted Alina could survive a different coupling, fragile human that she was. Therefore he would not consider having intercourse with her in any other way than the usual.

So, with reverence and joy, he took her as the female she was, glorying in the warmth of the womanhood surrounding him.

But because people - mortal or immortal alike - are full of contradictions, her firm buttocks pressing rhythmically on his crotch as he moved in her, filled him with unparalleled delight. And, from her intimate response - that he now was able to recognize - he knew he was not the only one to be delighted.

Finally spent, he mused on this wonderful creature who seemed to recognize his most secret cravings, not judging him.

Throughout their lovemaking, he had been in control of himself, both of his strength and his thirst. Maybe this also was a blessed consequence of having found his mate. That she was this, there were no doubts left in his mind.

.

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Endnotes: 

Please, leave me a review, if you can.

Obedience: Adso is a man (well, vampire) of his times, therefore he has troubles accepting homosexuality, thinks women should obey men and has never reflected on the fact that sex should be a give and take process…but, as you have seen, he is learning.

Could Alina get pregnant? Note that I fully subscribe to Stephenie's concept of male vampires' fertility and hybrid babies (I am a big BD fan). But this wouldn't always fit in a story, so there was no baby in The Parachutist – I explained why and how – and it is not going to happen here. Let's say that Adso had the mumps while still a human teenager, OK? Since he had no idea of this possibility, the issue will not be addressed at all.


	12. Chapter 12 Doubts

**The Pilgrimage, by Camilla10**

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Chapter 12 - Doubts

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_Previously …_

_Throughout their lovemaking, he had been in control of himself, both of his strength and his thirst. Maybe this also was a blessed consequence of having found his mate. That she was this, there were no doubts left in his mind._

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**(Alina)**

When Prime sounded, it was time for Alina to leave Adso. Before that, she told him quickly that Vanna had hinted that she knew her real gender, but was not going to tell on her and then had started recounting a sad tale, hinting at money troubles.

"I think she intends to blackmail me," Alina concluded, "I told her to let me be, and there were people around, so she could not be more explicit, but I fear she'll try again, and soon"

"I'll take care of her," Adso said, "however, you must understand that your secret is not safe anymore. And you can't go on sleeping in the male dormitory," he almost growled, "Look, I think Morello will have a relapse when we get to San Gimignano and you will stay there nursing it."

"But why? I can stable my horse and come back for it after the pilgrimage…"

"No," exclaimed Adso, forcefully. "No, if you continue and I don't manage to put the fear of God in Vanna… she will tell on you. Believe me, you can't continue with us.

"Hear the bell, this is Prime. You have to go now. We will speak again this night. But you have to trust me. You can't come with us. I can't allow it. Please, please trust me."

Although not completely convinced, Alina let it go for the moment, dressed quickly and left him.

"And be sure to tell the others that you have been in the stables all night, because you were worried about your horse… I think they'll believe you." These were Adso's parting words to her.

Alina went to the stables, where she found Morello in good condition, then entered the chapel. Most of the pilgrims had gathered there already. Eventually, Adso joined them too, his face unreadable. He led the prayers. Looking at the back of his dark blond head and hearing once again how well he sang, she didn't feel completely convinced that he really wasn't a monk.

She wondered if he had lied, and she had chosen to believe him only because desire had driven her crazy. She feared she would have given herself to him even if he indeed belonged to the Church. She had no shame: hadn't she offered herself as a man would to another man? At least so far as she understood it; after all she had only a coarse joke to go by. The fact that he had not followed up on her offer was comforting, in a way… but maybe that kind of touching was pleasurable too, as were the other exciting things he had done to her. A delicious shudder coursed through her body. Alina knew she should not have such thoughts in a church, when she was supposed to pray, but she could not help herself.

God, how handsome he was! Slightly aquiline nose, sculpted mouth, firm chin…milky white skin, with not a single blemish on it, no trace of stubble even in the evening, a taut skin that covered muscles that were hard as marble, a skin that was cold, but had set hers on fire…

But, why so cold? Unbidden, the thought surfaced in her mind, with other memories, the feeling of the barely contained power she had felt. He had been gentle with her, and yet… What was in him that had bewitched her so completely? A beauty that was almost superhuman: yes, Adso was more similar to an archangel than to a man. But angels were chaste, and he was not. Devils, on the other hand, must be hot like the flames that had spawned them. They would not have a cold skin, surely. One by one, all the things that passion had made her overlook formed a list, a very puzzling one. She remembered the strange sounds he had made, and the moment - after he had taken her virginity -when he had stopped breathing… for too long. And his hard chest pressing on hers had been singularly... still. His heart should have been thumping as hers was, but it had not.

Plus, there was his scent. Even when everybody reeked of sweat after a long day of walking, he had only smelled of fir and of… something, a flower probably, that was like vanilla, but richer, when he had joined her in the stables. Delicious, and so strange. Stranger still, he never seemed to be sweating, not only after walking but also… In fact she had sweated a little during their coupling.

He hadn't.

Who was he? Who was her lover? Was he something… other than human? Was such a thing possible?

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**(Adso)**

Once his pilgrims were safely ensconced in the refectory for breakfast, Adso went to take care of something that was absolutely necessary.

Before going to the chapel, he used the bathhouse furnace to burn everything but the bed frame, to hide the traces of what happened in his cell – particularly the near destruction of the pallet. So the sheet bearing testimony of Alina's lost virtue was consumed by the fire, giving him a bittersweet feeling.

Remembering the muted burn her blood had provoked in his throat, he smiled to himself. Vampires were supposed to be immutable, but he was changing fast, and he hoped to change even more, for her.

Now he went to seek the Cistercian monk in charge of the pilgrims' hostel, telling him that he had been violently sick during the night, so much as not to be able to reach the privy. He had cleaned everything, he said, and wanted to leave a few coins to pay for the damage. It was normal for superiors to let a guide travel with some money, just in case something untoward happened during a pilgrimage, so the Cistercian was more than happy and not suspicious at all.

He went to gather his flock and, leaving the Badia, he led them to San Gimignano, their next destination. He felt Alina's eyes on his back, but did not turn or accost her during their walk. This night, he promised himself, this night…

**(Vanna)**

Among the many hospices existing in San Gimignano, Adso had taken his pilgrims to the Spedale of San Jacopo al Tempio, an institution founded by the Templars but passed, after the violent dissolution of the Order some 40 years before, to the Jerosolimitane monks. It was under the Bishop of Volterra's authority, he had explained, therefore the best possible place for them to find hospitality.

Vanna, the midwife, put her sack on the narrow bed she would sleep in this night. The other women were doing the same. They could rest, for there was time before evening prayers and supper. A few fellow travelers had said they would have a look at the town and its wondrous towers till there was light. She was not interested in sightseeing, though. She wanted to speak with Aligi, the woman who dressed like a man.

Aligi was nowhere to be seen, however. She made her way to the stables, but Morello wasn't there, nor was its owner. Puzzled, she wondered if she should venture outside, but where to?

A shadow was suddenly at her side. Brother Adso had approached her so silently that she had not heard him until he was here, in the empty outer courtyard, towering over her.

"A word, Monna Vanna, if you please."

She nodded, extremely uncomfortable. Why did she feel so cold, all of a sudden?

"Why were you looking into the stables?" The monk asked.

"Is it forbidden?" She retorted, piqued.

"No, it is not," he answered mildly. "I was only wondering what you needed there, since you have not a horse."

Vanna didn't know how to answer, feeling worse by the minute.

"But, if you were looking for the only one of us who actually has a horse, Aligi, that is, I'd better tell you that he or, more precisely, **she**, is not here." He concluded, to her deep astonishment.

The monk knew, then. If so, Aligi wouldn't give her anything to ensure she did not blabber. But, how did he know? Who had told him? What…

His voice, hard and cold, cut in between her confused thoughts.

"Aligi is a woman, of course I know it, and I know her reasons for the disguise – strong and compelling reasons that no one should question. You less than anybody."

"But…"

"No buts, woman, whatever you had in mind to do with your knowledge, forget it. My superior, the Reverend Abbot Aro, knows as well, he has sanctioned it and it is my task to ensure that nobody, hear me well,** nobody**, bothers her."

While they were speaking the slanting rays of the late afternoon sun hit the monk right in the face. For a moment his eyes seemed to her not black, but dark red like rubies. Terrifying, as was his white, tense face.

"Brother, it 's all a misunderstanding, I won't tell anybody," Vanna hastened to say, sure that Aligi had complained to their guide, and now she was in trouble with the Church, exactly what she had wanted to avoid.

"See that it is so." Now that the sun was no longer hitting the monk's face, the midwife could not say exactly what had scared her.

"In any case," Brother Adso continued, "Aligi will not travel with us tomorrow. Her horse is too sick and she has to take care of it. She will join us directly at Saint Marcus' Shrine, the day after tomorrow, if she can. In the meanwhile, she has taken a room in an inn. And now, Monna Vanna, go into the church and pray. Forget any mundane concern you may have thought to have. Think of your soul, instead. Go!"

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**(Adso)**

The lie about Aro knowing and protecting Alina' s masquerade had passed smoothly through Adso's lips. Satisfied, he felt he had scared Vanna enough to ensure her continued silence. And, anyway,there were just a couple of nights left before Armageddon…

He wondered if Alina had settled in at The Mule, the inn he had sent her to. That she had not protested was a small miracle in itself. She had seemed absorbed in her thoughts, worried. Following his whispered instructions obediently, she had appeared to be going with Morello to the stables, but then she had turned abruptly and – unseen by the rest of the group - had led the horse toward the gate again and out of the hostel. Without turning back, she had gone away.

Now he desperately needed to be with her. But, first, he had better hunt. Even if bloodlust had not been a big problem the previous night, he didn't want to run any risk. He left word with Duccio, who had not gone sightseeing, that he had something to do in San Gimignano on behalf of his Abbot, so his pilgrims would be left to their own devices for the night. They had better be on their best behavior, spend time in church, eat and go to bed early… or else.

As the gates were guarded, he waited for dusk and left vampire-style, sliding down a wall and running at high speed into the woods surrounding the town. Mindful of the warning the nomad had given him, he disrobed and let his instincts take over.

The herd of deer he found gave him a run for his meal. They were fast, but he was faster and eventually managed to grab one and wrestle it to the ground. Gentler than the boar he had taken near Monteriggioni, the young buck surrendered quickly to its fate. Thirst assuaged, Adso considered the experience and found he liked hunting animals: ethics aside, they were more of a challenge than humans, engaging all his senses and demanding speed, strength and stealth from his powerful body. It was exciting and natural and **sane**, even if there was not another vampire in the world that would agree with him. Well, taste was another matter, he had to admit, the deer's blood was weak and slightly bitter. The boar's had tasted much better. In any case, once again, he had not experienced the crippling post-feeding nausea and, for that alone, he felt grateful.

Dressed again he went back to the town, climbed the walls and was inside. The inn where he had sent Alina was doing a brisk business and he wondered if some of his pilgrims had found their way here and would see him. Well, if they were in the tavern, his obvious justification would be that he had come to retrieve them. However, there was no one he knew in the public room. Indeed his followers were pious and well behaved; he should not have worried. Now he had to find Alina's room. Nobody paid any attention when he crossed the small courtyard, all the servants were attending the raucous patrons.

His nose led Adso to a door on the first floor balcony. He knocked softly and it opened. Entering quickly he closed the door. No smile, no embrace greeted him, however. Alina retreated a few steps, her serious gaze on his face.

"Adso, what are you?" she asked.

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Endnotes

Extraordinarily unobservant till now, I would say! How will Adso react? Please let me know what you think.

Unblemished skin. So many people were pockmarked in the Middle Ages that a perfect skin was regarded as beauty in itself. Plus, nobody thought that being tanned was pleasing, only the sign that you were a lowly field worker.

Adso's scent. He is from South Tyrol in the Alps, so I imagine his scent as mountain related. Fir tree and Nigritella Nigra (Vanilla Orchid in English). The distinctive smell of this tiny dark red flower recalls not only vanilla but chocolate too. However, chocolate had not arrived in Europe yet, Columbus' journey would not happen for more than a century. So poor Alina could not give a label to her vampire's delicious smell.

The Mule was a real inn existing in San Gimignano at the time. The church of San Jacopo al Tempio survives to this day. I am very grateful to the Tourism office of San Gimignano for the information provided.


	13. Chapter 13 Evasions

**The Pilgrimage by Camilla10**

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Chapter 13 - Evasions

**If you like The Pilgrimage you can still vote for it and for Adso in The Non-Canon Awards (just google the name). Voting closes the 20th of June. So, hurry up!  
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_Previously: "Adso, what are you?"_

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**(Adso/Alina)**

Adso froze, his pale face an unreadable mask. But then the mask crumbled, and Alina could see his despair as he struggled with himself for an answer that did not give everything away. His mind racing, he was watching her, dressed or, more accurately, almost 'undressed' like a woman for the first time, a long white shift covering her from neck to feet, concealing her form but more enticing for him than if she had been nude. The last thing he wanted, with her beauty in his sights, was to have this fearful conversation However, he knew he could not keep silent any longer.

"What do you think I am, Alina?" Stalling, but it was the best he could manage.

"Just tell me: are you human or not?"

_Hell, she is getting there. How shall I answer and not lie? It's too early, damn it, too early… I just need two more days._

Adso's voice was subdued when he finally spoke, but at least he could look her in the eyes.

"I was human, once. I am not human anymore."

Alina flinched. But, before she could react and ask him for the declaration that would confirm all her fears, he started to speak again. It was a barrage of words, aimed at distraction, yet telling in full the sad story of his birth from unwedded parents, his vocation and his novitiate.

He told her of his discovery of the Dominican Order's corruption, putting a price on sacred things, and how, disgusted with it and with his faith shattered, he had fled the convent. Adso could see that she was deeply moved and understood him completely. After all, she knew of the Church's duplicity. Hadn't fearful priests refused to come to her father's deathbed and absolve him, so that he had confessed to her instead and burdened her forever with his guilt?

His months as a wandering clerk followed, and then his work as a fur merchant's handyman, until…

Here he had to tread very carefully.

"We were deep in the Balkans when I met someone powerful and evil, and this… creature killed me. But I did not die, I became what I am, not living and not dead. Undead, and not human anymore."

"What does it mean _'undead'_?" Alina asked, while everything started to make sense to her, an awful sense. She was trembling, thinking of all the things she had refused to notice but had been there, for her to reflect about: pale, cold skin, flesh under it that was like marble, an unbeating heart, not even a beard growth…

"It means that I am frozen like this, forever. I will not get old, I will not get ill, and I will never sleep again." There was no joy in his description, his bleak tone indicated that he did not find any pleasure in his condition, while many would give their very soul to be able to never get ill, never get old.

Horror, not so much for what he was but for his plight, overtook Alina. Rather than asking more about his strange, undead body and how it functioned, she wanted to know about his spirit, about what had happened to it after he was changed.

"But, even if you are like this… you told me you love me. So, you can still love."

"I did not believe it possible, for one such I am. But, somehow, it is. I have done dreadful things, Alina, things I am ashamed of. When I was changed I fell under the domination of cruel people and had to do their bidding. But, this pilgrimage has changed me, meeting you has changed me. I have to report to my masters, but after that I will be free to leave them. To reveal more about who they are is too dangerous, I told you. We will have to be very, very far from here before I can do it.

He had approached and now he was embracing her.

"Tell me that you will come with me, tell me, please. With you I can be different, I can be human again, almost. Save me, love, save me from myself."

The anguish in his words was evident, his eyes glistened with a sheen that did not resolve itself into tears.

His voice bitter, he added, lowering his head:

"And I can't even weep for my sins."

Alina felt her heart breaking for him. It did not matter that he was still concealing things from her, nothing mattered but their love, of this she was certain. Shushing him she reciprocated his embrace, and the kisses that followed.

Adso dismissed the fact that he had evaded the most important issue, and, while not exactly lying, he had kept from Alina the essential truth about himself. Alina forgot any other question she had previously and what kind of future was in store for them. For both of them the here and now prevailed.

Cowl and tunic hastily shed, he allowed for her to explore his alien body, marveling at her touch. The succubus who had seduced him had been an expert courtesan, every move calculated for effect. But this warm, human woman had no wiles, only passion and tenderness for him. Lost in wonder, she traced his hard muscles, rediscovering the silkiness of the skin covering them. Her curious fingers grazed the dark blond hair of his chest, lingered on the flat nipples until they hardened, then started stroking him progressively lower, her mouth following in their wake and making him feel warmer and warmer under her ministrations.

"Your skin tastes like honey," she murmured, raising her adoring eyes to his face.

Throughout, Adso did not budge, laying supine, his hands fisted to help him keep control. He could not, however, prevent the twitching of his straining erection, when Alina's hand reached there.

"Is it different from what other men have?" she asked, cheeks coloring in a delicious blush. She had only seen - she had been obliged to see –her father's pitiful, shrunken member, when she had tried to make the groin buboes burst, hoping to help him. A useless attempt, and a most unpleasant memory she wanted to erase. However, she found Adso's manhood alluring. It was virile and ever so strong.

"No, I believe that I am very similar to human men, there." Adso chuckled, enchanted by her naiveté. Then he gasped, for she had unexpectedly straddled his body and impaled herself without delay onto him. Alina was still wearing the long, opaque shift, now covering them both, so he could not see her, only feel her hot, tight, wet flesh surrounding him. She moved atop him, creating new sensations. Her feminine parts rubbed against his pubic hair, and her strong muscles milked his shaft. He was in paradise. This was, by far, the most erotic thing he had ever experienced. Closing his eyes in ecstasy, he delved under the shift, found her flanks, and, grasping them as delicately as he could manage, started to move their bodies together. It was glorious.

Later, when they were both spent and she slept in his arms for a while, he cautiously raised her chemise and realized he had bruised her. He felt guilty, very much so, but thought it better not to say anything, lest it make her wonder more about his nature and his preternatural strength.

After matins Adso left the Mule, and returned to Saint Jacopo. Without waking his charges, he went to Prime alone and tried to really pray. But he felt that his words were not rising to heaven, admitting that there was a heaven. If salvation was to be gained by someone like him, he knew he had not earned it. Not yet and not ever, probably. An evil task awaited him, which would not sit well with God. Still, his course was set and he could not deviate from it. Putting on one side of the scale his soul, if he still had one, and Alina's safety on the other, really there was not a choice. She came first. So he had to deliver the humans to the massacre awaiting them.

On leaving her, he had promised to do his utmost to come again to visit her the following night, after he had settled his flock in their next destination. Puzzled, Alina had asked how he would come back, as he had no horse.

"I can run very fast and never tire," had been his succinct answer, revealing another bit of his real physiology. But she had not seemed upset by it and let it pass. Sighing, she had just said that she would be waiting for him then, and gone back to sleep.

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**(Omodeo)**

Between San Gimignano and the Era Valley, where the Castle of Petrina was located, the only accommodation available was in the restored ruins of the fortress of Camporbiano. It had been partially razed by an angry mob some 20 years earlier, as it had belonged to Florence, a sovereignty much disputed by the inhabitants of San Gimignano. However, since the plague, the area had been calm, and, with a small garrison to ensure safety, Camporbiano had resumed its hospitality functions. So the monk had assured them, adding that the fort was far from being well furnished, however.

And so they walked at a moderate pace while chanting litanies that were supposedly soothing for the spirit. The former arbalester had not found answers to his inner torments, so far, nor anyone to relieve his loneliness. Apart from their guide, that is. At least, Brother Adso had appeared not to be scandalized by his confidences. Maybe that was because, whatever their preaching, monks were not ignorant of love among men. In fact it was likely to happen: young men living among themselves and segregated from women! And, come to think of it, something could have been going on between the monk and the young pilgrim, Aligi. Gone away, returned, and now disappeared again – to tend his horse, the story was. Nothing Omodeo could put his finger on, really, just gazes, nothing more. And yet, somebody had even hinted at it: the merchant's widow called Bonizella, who seemed to be both observant and spiteful. Not a nice woman, beautiful though she may be.

But it had nothing to do with him, really. If it was true, he wished them joy. There was so little joy in the world, and for him none at all anymore.

His last nights had been better than in the past, though. He had dreamed of Fulco, to be sure, but they had not been frustrating erotic dreams, nor were they about the horror that Crecy had been. Fulco had looked radiant and very young, smiling at him. They were surrounded by the sea, calm and blue under a blue sky.

"Soon," he had said, "very soon we will see each other again…"

The image had faded, but he had woken up full of hope. If death were coming for him he would welcome it with open arms. He wondered how it would be possible. He was still strong as a horse and this pilgrimage was the tamest one could imagine. Only another few days, with no dangers in sight. He should have gone to Rome, probably, so many things could happen during such a long walk… But he had not. Well, he could find the Romea again and go South, hoping to find Fulco at the end of the journey.

Behind him two people were speaking, and not offering litanies to God. One voice was raised in anger, then he heard a "the pox on you, fraud!" over the drone, and turning, saw Masino, who must have been walking near Cosimo, taking long strides to distance himself from the notary.

The boy was at his side, now. The chanting had stopped in the meantime, as the road was going uphill.

"He is vile," Masino murmured, more to himself than to Omodeo. "Well paired with Mother. She is worse than him, though. It is her fault Lena died."

"Lena?" Omodeo asked, surprised by the outburst from a normally silent youth. But now the dam had collapsed.

"My intended. We wanted to marry, but mother accused her falsely, and I… I doubted her too, I did not defend her, so she ran away, was lost in the woods, all alone and then she died. An accident, they said."

Poor boy, so young for having lived such a tragedy. Now he wanted to know more.

"And the allegation was false?"

"Yes, I discovered it too late."

Well, the wine merchant's widow had something to atone for, surely. Then sympathy for the boy made Omodeo speak, regretting it immediately.

"I too had a moment of cowardice when I lost the person I loved and I have not found peace since. But you are young and…"

"Age has nothing to do with it. I have not forgotten and I have not forgiven," was Masino's harsh retort.

"Who was the woman you lost?" he then asked.

"It was not a woman, it was a comrade at arms." Omodeo answered, because to deny Fulco's reality seemed to him another betrayal. Then he waited for Masino to leave his side, disgusted.

But it did not happen.

"My love was the washerwoman's daughter. Both not very suitable, eh?"

Buried under his melancholy the boy had a sense of humor, then, and was not judgmental. Omodeo's heart warmed to him. Masino's next words, however, were a complete surprise.

"Look, I heard that you were an arbalester in the Genoese Battalion. Would they be accepting new recruits? I know how to use the crossbow, a friend of mine had one that was his uncle's and we practiced together for fun. "

"I have lost contacts with my old comrades, and many must have died with the plague but, yes, just for this reason, they must surely be recruiting."

They walked on in a silence that had become very companionable.

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End notes. 

This fic has reached midway. If you are lurking there, you could maybe make an exception and send me a review.

The mercenary battalion of Genoese crossbowmen continued to exist for two centuries more, successful and in demand, despite the Crecy's debacle. Then the arrival of fire arms on the battlefields made it redundant.


	14. Chapter 14 Teeth

**The Pilgrimage, by Camilla**

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A/N The Pilgrimage did not get any award for the Non Canon Awards. But, if you voted for my fic or for Adso, I am very grateful. Thank you.

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Chapter 14 - Teeth

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_Previously_

_An evil task awaited him, which would not sit well with God. Still, his course was set and he could not deviate from it. Putting on one side of the scale his soul, if he still had one, and Alina's safety on the other, really there was not a choice. She came first. So he had to deliver the humans to the massacre awaiting them._

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**(Adso)**

The accommodation in Camporbiano was almost nonexistent, a patched roof and not much more. Even the men of the tiny garrison seemed disinterested in their job, just drinking their time away. However, the pilgrims adjusted, as Adso had prepared them well, making plain the need to bring their own provisions, since a meal would not be provided.

The following evening, in Petrina, they would be offered a substantial lunch or early supper, depending on their arrival time, so everybody agreed to rough it for one night. The vampire saw that, in addition to consuming the customary bread and cheese, the women had lit a fire and were roasting turnips over it. To avoid being offered one, he retreated into the shadows. It was easy enough to do it, for apart from the fire, there was only a single torch burning. After a while, Adso decided they did not need him: lacking a chapel, there were not going to be common prayers here, apart the perfunctory rendering of grace before the meal.

Burning with the desire to leave, Adso prowled in the shadows, he wanted to be with Alina one more time before… He tried to calm himself, but what if things did not go well at Petrina? What if Aro read him? As soon as he felt he could safely disappear, he ran.

He got to San Gimignano and the Mule in no time, reached the courtyard and the balcony undetected, and finally was in Alina's arms.

Despair made him insatiable, his ardor unrelenting, until he noticed that she had indeed been bruised in their encounter the night before. This enabled him to rein himself in, otherwise he would have continued to make love to her all night long. One day perhaps that would become possible for them, but now it would surely be too much for a frail human body. One day… but that was a hope he shouldn't cultivate, a blasphemy.

Afterward she put on her shift again and he donned his tunic. Alina took his hand and led him to a small table.

"Winter pears and cheese," she said, indicating a platter, "I ordered them because I was sure you wouldn't have had the time to eat supper. You arrived here quite early."

"No, I had time to eat, I don't need anything," was Adso's obvious answer.

"At least have some wine. Let's share a cup."

"No, thank you. Honestly, I am not thirsty."

Grey, severe eyes bored into his.

"You don't really eat, Adso, do you? Nor do you drink. I haven't seen you eating in a week. When it seems that you are doing so, it is just… play acting. Don't lie to me, please."

So, another fragment of his secret was exposed. It was inevitable, probably. She was more observant now.

"That's right", he admitted, "I don't eat and drink as you do. But, please, don't ask me more. We are still in danger. Knowledge is deadly, in our case."

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**(Alina)**

Alina contemplated her lover. He had taken her like there was no tomorrow. She had sensed his anguish and could sense it now. They were in real danger, evidently, and he feared for her. Despite his evasions, he was letting her know what he believed essential. She shivered and then said:

"I'll eat something, if you won't," and took a pear and a knife to peel it, but her hand trembled, the blade slipped and a line of blood formed on her palm. It was a slight graze and she was about to say so when Adso's face stopped her words. It had contracted in a terrifying grimace, his nostrils quivering, his teeth bared at her. A low rumble resonated from his chest. Paralyzed as a lark in the gaze of a serpent, unable to comprehend what was happening, she waited for him to attack her.

However, it did not happen. With a loud groan he retreated into a corner of the room. His back was turned, but Alina could see his blonde head leaning on his arm and his body shuddering. When he turned again she realized he had bitten his own hand. Surprisingly, there was no blood.

"You, you were going to bite me," she stammered.

Adso did not deny it. He stood in front of her, eyes downcast, arms at his sides, immobile. He was not even breathing.

_He does not eat or drink human food. He is pale and cold. He doesn't bleed, if wounded. Undead, as he said. And the sight of blood makes him lose his reason and bite…_

"I know what you are," Alina said, "you…"

A cold finger pressed on her lips. She saw he had resumed breathing.

"Don't say it. Don't even think it. It is essential this memory** not** be planted in my mind, or yours. I know you do not understand, but you must trust me. I'll be back the day after tomorrow before night fall. Much earlier if I can. As soon as I arrive we will leave and go as far as possible and, when I feel we are safe, I'll tell you everything. I swear it. Then you will decide if you want to stay with me or not, if the truth is impossible for you to bear or not. If you find it unbearable, I'll accompany you wherever you want to go, and then you will be free of me… Or you can leave tomorrow, if you wish, Maybe it is better so." He paused, exhaling, before concluding.

"But, if you wait for me, and I hope you will, even if I should not wish for it, don't wait too long. Keep your horse ready, and run. Promise me that you will not linger here, if I don't come back well before nightfall."

"No, Adso, no!" she gasped, trying to reach for him.

"Don't touch me, not now. I have to go."

And, in a blur, he was gone.

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**(Masino)**

He had so much to think about that he couldn't sleep. After speaking with Omodeo he felt an increasing desire to leave everything behind him. His mother, the unctuous notary – they deserved each other, but why should they poison his life as well? He had said that he would not forgive and forget, but he was so tired of hate. He realized that, instead of revenge, he wanted out. There was a whole world outside, far from the stifling confines of his bleak home. He could leave and go to Genoa. He would reach the Aurelia road and travel North. And he would get to the sea, something he had always wanted to do.

He had very little money with him, however, not enough to buy a horse or even a good cross bow. Hell, he would have to go to Florence first, where a banker kept his small inheritance. Knowing her well, his father had made sure that his widow could not touch it, as Florence was a city where the influence of Montalcino and Siena notables would not be felt. But now he had to convince the banker to advance at least part of the money …

Masino was sitting on a well's parapet in a deserted courtyard. It was large and a little slippery from moss and water, but it was wonderfully cool and made a peaceful resting place. The well, which had miraculously escaped destruction, had three tiers of white marble steps around it, down to the courtyard of perfectly aligned grey cobblestones. Masino wondered at its construction and survival, then went back to his musings. So absorbed he was in his thoughts that his eyes closed for a while. Thus, he did not see the man silently approaching. Throttled by a strong hand, he found himself being pushed into the well at the same time: already his bottom was leaning inside. Panicking, he fought the unknown assailant, trying to find a purchase on the slick parapet with his legs and his heels. His hands fastened upon the metal poles which held the crank for the bucket. He clung to them desperately. He wanted to call out, but the grip on his neck made it impossible. He could not breathe, his ears were buzzing, he was going to succumb…

Suddenly, the man was gone and his feet were firmly planted on the ground. Shaking out his dizziness, he was finally able to look around. It was not so dark anymore and he could dimly see the bulky body of Cosimo, the notary, lying on the ground. Brother Adso was looking at him.

"Is he dead?" he asked the monk, wheezing.

"No, unconscious. He will stay like that for a while. But there is not a lot of time. Why was he trying to kill you?"

This was quite a different Brother Adso from the one Masino was used to. He realized how strong the monk must be, to have felled a big man with no apparent effort. He looked like a warrior, not a monk, somebody to be feared. Still, he had saved his life and had earned a sincere answer. With a raspy voice the boy said:

"Because I got angry and called him a fraud, a forger, so he realized I knew what he did. He wanted me silenced, I think."

"Is he really a forger?"

"Yes, in cohort with my mother he forged a will, so that she inherited from my uncle what he had wanted to leave to the Church instead. They split the benefits among themselves. I wanted to expose him, and I have proof. Only, I am not yet of age to act in Court."

"But, you would have exposed your mother as well," objected the monk.

"I wanted her ruin her even more than I wanted the notary's. She… she caused the death of a girl… a girl I cared for." Here Masino's voice broke. He hated that.

"You say 'I wanted'. Don't you want it anymore?"

"I…I don't know. When the bastard attacked me I was thinking of running away. I have spoken with Omodeo. It seems that the Genoese Battalion is recruiting..."

"Do it. Leave. Go to Genoa if that is what your heart tells you to do. Leave this pilgrimage,** now**!"

It did not make a lot of sense, and yet there was in Brother Adso's voice something that made Masino feel that the monk was right. No bailiffs to summon, no vengeance, just blessed escape, far, far away. It was as a heavy burden was sliding from his shoulders.

"If you go, I'll take care of everything. I'll see that crimes don't go unpunished for long. Do you have money?"

"Very little."

"That can be remedied. Hear me well. Do you have a friend in Montalcino, one you can trust?

"Yes."

"Then, once you are in Genoa, write to him, before this year ends. He might have news for you. The justice of God can be swift; we don't know His designs. Look, the man is awakening."

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**(Cosimo)**

The notary regained consciousness with a splitting headache and a heavy weight on his chest. He realized that the monk, Adso, was keeping him pinned down with his foot.

"Messer Cosimo, you are in trouble. We will examine together how big the trouble is. But first I need to send Masino on his way. Give me your purse."

Terrified, the notary complied.

"Mmm, silver, and some gold too. I'll leave you with just enough to end the pilgrimage and go back in comfort. The rest goes to Masino, whom you tried to kill. If it is not enough, I am sure that Monna Velia will help you. She has reasons to be grateful, hasn't she?

Damn it, the monk knew everything. Cosimo did not answer, lest he made his situation worse.

"Masino, take the money that our notary very kindly offered you and go. Don't say anything now, he doesn't need to know your plans. Remember what I told you. Run, boy, run."

When they were alone, Adso resumed speaking, his voice hard and cold.

"Now, Messere, you have a choice and I have a preference. My preference is to continue the pilgrimage with no delay, as my Abbot would want me to. Your choice is the following:

"We can wait together until the men in the garrison awaken. Dawn is coming. I'll ask them to detain you. They will do it. My Order is much respected around here. I think they have a restored cell where you can wait for the bailiffs, whom I'll ask somebody to summon. But that would imply that my charges have to stay here too, and I would get involved in mundane matters. Not my preference. The other option is that, first of all, you placate Monna Velia, telling her that Masino has gone back home and you gave him money for his journey. He was very troubled and confided in you, asking for your help. Compassion made you do it. Indeed." Here Adso smiled, before continuing, a smile that did not reach his eyes.

"Then you will complete the pilgrimage as a proper penitent, barefoot, dressed in sackcloth, ashes on your head and fasting. Nobody will be surprised: you will say that it is a vow you have made for the last leg of the journey. And you are lucky that we have only a few miles to walk, today. If I see that you are sincere in your repentance, I'll forget this sorry affair. What happens when you go back is not my concern. But I count on Masino's continued well-being, and I will be informed if it is not so.

"So, what is your choice?"

It was not really a choice. The monk was giving him an easy way out, and he was not about to miss the opportunity offered.

"I will continue the journey as a penitent," Cosimo decided.

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Endnotes

This will be the last chapter posted for almost two weeks. I am going to Norway with no computer. It would be wonderful if, when I am back, I could find some reviews waiting for me. I'll answer everybody, of course.

What could be the tired pilgrims be roasting, if not turnips? No potatoes nor corn on the cob, alas, America had yet to be discovered. And not even bruschetta, as there were no tomatoes available. Sad.

Winter pears. It is early summer, so the new pears aren't available yet. However, apples and pears could be stored in lofts, on dry straw and so they kept, if a little wrinkled, until the new harvest.

Just to make something clear: vampires are not part of the Italian mythology or folk tales and no medieval Italian would have thought of vampires when imagining a supernatural creature. But, Stephenie put the Volturi in Italy, and in this story the pilgrims are going to worship at the shrine of a supposed vampire slayer. Therefore Alina has vampires in her mind and can finally realize what Adso is.


	15. Chapter 15 All Hope Abandon

**The Pilgrimage by Camilla10**

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Chapter 15 – All Hope Abandon

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_Previously in Chapter 14_

"_I will continue the journey as a penitent," Cosimo decided._

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**(The pilgrims)**

Finally, the end of the journey was near. The eagerness to arrive put wings on every soul's feet. Well, every soul, save one: Cosimo was lagging behind, embarrassed and already limping, because he was not used to walk barefoot. Worse yet, he stank to high heaven, as the only sackcloth available at Camporbiano had contained something wet and now it was mildewed.

Accosting and looking at him with pitiless eyes, Adso murmured:

"Sometime real penitents advance on their knees. Count yourself lucky." Nobody heard him because, due to the smell, all the pilgrims were giving the notary a wide berth, wondering what sins had required such penance as he had suddenly undertaken.

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Velia had a pretty good idea what sins those could be, and was worried. What if the man was truly repenting and wanted to do something about the forged will? Would he implicate her too? In fact, she had received an anonymous letter. But it was vague and the thing could not be proven, so she had not been unduly alarmed. However, if Cosimo got cold feet…things would change. She shuddered. This concern obscured the fact that her good for nothing son had run away. But, as the notary had told her, he was going back home, so she would not think about it just now. The fool had even given money to Masino, without asking her permission. Well, fine, provided he didn't think she had to pay him back. As for the boy, evidently he needed discipline and a firmer hand. Or, perhaps he just needed a woman, so that he would stop mourning the death of the little trollop who had seduced him. Yes, it was time she started looking into prospective brides for Masino. A healthy girl with a good dowry and a compliant character. Looks and wit were not that important…

.

Contemplating the notary from a safe distance, Guerrino, the apothecary, felt envious. He would never have had the courage to expose himself like that. He knew he was ugly and scrawny, while Messer Cosimo was well built - if on the heavy side - and had no reason to be ashamed of his muscular arms and calves. Guerrino would have been mortified to wear the skimpy sackcloth and so he was walking with the others, without having done anything to truly atone for his sins. Agnese's suicide weighted heavily on his spirit. He had blackmailed her into it, thinking only of the pleasure she could give him. Had she killed herself because she did not want to be unfaithful to her husband? Or because she found him so repugnant that death was preferable? He knew himself to be repulsive, outside and inside, and this knowledge was slowly sapping his will to live.

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_I don't know if God will forgive me, or help Giannetto and keep him safe. I did everything for him, so that he could have the happy, secure life of a rich boy, but maybe it was wrong, albeit the other baby was dead and it was not my fault. But, what if God punishes me through my child? What if he dies, there are so many things that could harm a child. And I cannot be near him, I cannot guard him… Oh please God, no, no. _Ada was distraught. The more they neared Petrina, the more the burden of her guilt oppressed her. Finally, she said to herself that tomorrow, when she was in front of Saint Marcus' holy relic, she would make a solemn vow: her life in exchange for Giannetto's. If somebody had to be punished, let it be her. The promise soothed her spirit and she was able to proceed with a lighter heart.

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Vanna thought that the pilgrimage had been a bad idea, after all. She had only managed to make Brother Adso suspicious of her, and through him, his Abbot, no doubt. She distrusted the Church. She feared that, in case there were communications between Petrina and her parish, she would be more in trouble than before, and she was already under scrutiny. No, the only way out would be to try to stay as inconspicuous as possible and leave as soon as the ceremonies ended. Certainly, she was not going to confess anything of what she had really done with the women she'd helped. She didn't believe that the confidentiality of confession was as iron bound as it was supposed to be, so she was going to admit only to minor misdemeanors and that was that.

.

As the day progressed, Duccio became increasingly worried about his brother. At the beginning Baldo had walked happily, singing, even. Strangely enough, he found it difficult to speak, but he remembered songs and could repeat the words parrot-like, singing in tune. However, after the first few miles, he had started to fret. Twice he had tried to stop walking and once he had even turned around, as if he wanted to go back to San Gimignano. Reprimanded, he was now dragging his feet. Yes, the boy was not himself today.

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Omodeo walked alone. Masino was not with them anymore, but nobody, and his mother in particular, seemed concerned about it. He had asked Brother Adso, but did not get any clear answer. It was something that the monk did not want discussed, evidently. Had the lad really left to enroll with the Genoese Arbalesters? Could their short conversation have had such an effect on him? Omodeo did not know, but he fervently hoped so. The more miles Masino put between himself and that harpy he had for a mother, the better. The arbalester wished him well and continued walking.

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**(Adso)**

Masino's disappearance had gone well, thought Adso, without creating ripples. He knew that he had taken a great risk in allowing for him to run, thus cheating his coven out of another of their victims. Now, more than ever, it was essential that Aro did not read him. But something – was it the miracle of being in love? - had moved his stony heart to compassion. The boy was so young, even younger than he had been when he had left Saint Peter's Monastery. One out of twenty four was not much, surely, and certainly it would not save his soul, if it ever stood in front of its Creator. But he was happy that he had done it. He would tell Alina, when he would be finally able to tell her everything. Would she forgive him? Would she accept him for what he was, or had been till now? When he met her again, if he met her again, he would be able to say sincerely that he would kill no more, at least not for feeding. He would stick to animals, that at least he could promise her. Was it going to be a redeeming factor? God, how much he loved her! How could he exist without her now? He wouldn't, of that he was sure.

In the meanwhile, to see the notary in his stinking penitential garb filled him with glee. Oh yes, the knave would pay full penance for his attempted murder and his forgery, come this night. And Monna Velia looked worried, her usual imperturbable self shaken. Good.

He noticed how nervous the idiot lad seemed, his brother almost coercing him to walk. He probably sensed, in an animalistic way, that something was very wrong. No, no more compassion. He could not afford it, and he could do nothing, now.

The arbalester was walking eagerly, on the contrary. Of all his pilgrims, he was the one who did not fear death and was eager to embrace it. Adso sincerely hoped that the vampire who took him would go quickly about his business…

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They had arrived. This was the last gate they would cross in their life. Well, if ever there was place on Earth where Dante Alighieri's verse _Lasciate ogni speranza o voi ch'entrate_ ("All hope abandon, ye who enter in.") should be affixed, it was on Petrina's entrance, thought Adso. He had read the exiled Florentine poet's work and had loved it. The _Inferno,_ particularly. He wondered where Dante would have placed vampires, had he known they existed. Among the damned or among the devils themselves?

His first act was to led the pilgrims to the castle's church, a rather grand one, more than what was the norm in castles; but this one belonged to Volterra's Bishop and had been enlarged, after the acquisition.

Adso intoned the solemn Te Deum, followed by those of his flock who knew the Latin words. He sang at his best, knowing that his voice - with no merit on his part, because it was just a gift he had been given - was nonetheless a thing of beauty they would keep with them in their last moments.

The much-awaited repast followed, a generous one, humbly served in the refectory by himself and a few of his "brethren". The atmosphere was not playful, though. If anything, it was thoughtful. Confession time was approaching fast.

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**(Leonello)**

The painter had no intention to go to confession and spend the night in penitence and prayer. It was not the reason he was here. So, having eaten his food quickly, he asked Brother Adso, standing immobile in a corner, if he could see the Cellarer this late, as he had a proposition for him. The monk looked at him with a puzzled expression, then smiled.

"It is early, rather than late," he said, "but I'll see what I can do. Wait for me here."

He came back after a short time, simply saying:

"Follow me, please, Father Caius will see you now." Leaving his apprentice out of this, as the pig was still gorging himself, Leonello hastened to follow Brother Adso.

Richly furnished and well lit by many candles, the Cellarer's office was less surprising than its occupant, a man who looked far too young for the important position he held. Tall and elegant in his cowl, he had a handsome, youthful face and a mass of straight ash blond hair tied at the nape of his neck. All in all, a strikingly beautiful man who, the painter realized, was not tonsured, exactly like all the monks he had seen here so far. He must surely be vain and this inspired Leonello with the best way to approach him.

He explained who he was, boasted of the frescoes he had done in other churches, well knowing that he was exaggerating, but who was there to say differently? He concluded saying he had been in the castle's church for the Te Deum and it would certainly be improved by more paintings.

A little unnerved by the Cellarer's unflinching stare, but determined to convince him, the painter added.

"The way I see it, I would like to expand on the theme of Roman soldiers who were martyred for their Christian faith. I would paint Saint Marcus, of course, the Patron of your Order, flanked by Saint Martin cutting his mantle, a good subject, that includes a horse, and, on the right side, Saint Sebastian. Furthermore, if you allow for it, I would give to the martyrs and the other characters represented in the fresco the real faces of members of your Community. So they will live forever in my work…"

Had he gone too far? Was he going to be scolded and told that vanity was a sin a monk would not indulge on? Apparently not, because Father Caius limited himself to a short question:

"Live forever in your work? Interesting concept. How would you paint **me, **then?"

Oh, he had not been mistaken, the monk was indeed vain. And he had the right to be, because he truly was exceedingly handsome.

"I was thinking of Saint Sebastian," the artist answered, knowing he had to tread carefully here. In fact, Saint Sebastian was always shown naked, his torso pierced by arrows and only a loincloth to cover his privates, but he doubted this exalted monk would undress for him to paint, albeit… and here Leonello shivered, because he found the idea exciting, but needed to keep his preferences well concealed from members of the Church, of course. They were his best clients, after all. Chasing from his mind any image of Father Caius in the nude, he said that he would be pleased to show the Cellarer how he would look in the fresco and promptly produced from his satchel a charcoal stick and a piece of parchment. He asked permission to sit and set immediately to work on a sketch of the monk's face.

When he was done, he nervously offered the drawing to the other's perusal. He had not too long to wait. With an impossibly fast movement the Cellarer jumped from his seat and the painter found himself pinned to the wall, an iron hand planted firmly on his chest while the other was drawing back his head, stretching his neck.

"I was prepared to consider your offer, Messer Leonello," hissed Caius, "but, you are not a good painter, I am afraid, so I think I have a better use for you. Oh, by the way, the members of my Order don't need to be painted to become immortal!"

And the vampire sank his teeth into Leonello's throat.

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Endnotes

Well yes, sorry, they are going to die now. Leonello is just the first one. But I am sure you were expecting it.

What do you think, did Caius got a better artist to paint him later on? I have to add that Saint Sebastian is an icon for the gay community.


	16. Chapter 16 Blood

**The Pilgrimage, by Camilla10**

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Chapter 16 – Blood

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_Previously in chapter 15_

_The much-awaited repast followed, a generous one, humbly served in the refectory by himself and a few of his "brethren". The atmosphere was not playful, though. If anything, it was thoughtful. Confession time was approaching fast._

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**(Adso)**

After leading Leonello to his death, Adso went to see Aro. He knew where he would find him, in a corridor that overlooked the refectory on the side opposite the windows. A few grilled openings allowed for viewing the humans below. The Head of the Volturi liked to take stock of the new arrivals.

Impassive, every emotion under control, Adso stood in front of his master, wondering if his last moments had arrived, as they surely would, should Aro decide to touch him.

"Welcome back, Adso," said the pretend Abbot, pleasantly. "It seems a good harvest indeed. Whom would you suggest I confess?"

_Oh, he must be thirsty, because he is focusing on his meal, good_. Aro liked to play with his food, while others just fell on their prey as soon as they were delivered to them. Concealing his distaste, Adso thought briefly whom to bring him, and decided he had the perfect candidate, one the Abbot would find amusing.

"Allow me to surprise you, Master," he said, hoping that, in order not to spoil the "surprise" Aro would be less keen to read him. It seemed to work. Now he had to announce his intention to leave. He paused, not knowing how to go about it, a wrong sentence would… but the ancient vampire's next words gave him the key.

"Wonderful, do it. I am sure you know your flock very well."

"Too well, I have to say. I admit that I would prefer to stay far from humans for a while. Well, apart from occasional and short encounters, that is." Adso allowed himself a chuckle, self hate almost choking him.

"My dear boy, I know that the work of a Lure can be taxing. So you want some time alone? You have surely earned it. Take a long leave then, if that is what you wish."

Adso bowed his head.

"Thank you, Master."

Going back to the refectory, where he was expected to be on duty till the end of the evening, Adso could not believe that things had gone so smoothly. He now would perform his last chores, taking turns to accompany the penitents to their ill fated confessions, and then he could depart. How long a _long leave_ was in Aro's mind, he didn't know and had not dared to ask. For vampires, time flowed differently than for humans, so perhaps it would be a long time indeed.

Then, when it become clear that he was not returning, would Aro try to retrieve him, setting Ruby on his tracks? Possibly; but possibly not. He had done nothing wrong, as far as Aro knew, and he did not deserve any punishment. One of the cardinal principles governing the coven was that being part of it was a honor, but nobody would be forced to stay. As Lures go, he had been good, but he was not the only one and he had no other outstanding talent. Maybe he would just be forgotten. Or, better, as immortals never really forgot anything, he would simply be made a low, very low, priority.

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**(Duccio)**

Duccio followed the monk – not Adso, but one of the others - who was guiding him and the farrier to confession. He shivered. It was almost summer, but inside the castle it was very cold. He was still disturbed by the tantrum Baldo had thrown minutes before, when he had seen him leaving. The lad had grasped his legs, crying inarticulate, unintelligible words. So embarrassing. He had not known what to do, realizing that his brother was very strong and only his sweet disposition had allowed for managing him till now. But what if he became wild and uncontrollable? Duccio had to work, had his meat shop to tend to. They were the only ones spared by the plague in their family, and he had promised his dying mother he would always care for Baldo.

Fortunately, one of the monks, a Brother Godenzo, had approached before the scene became too disquieting, saying he had a method for calming people in distress. Duccio had not understood exactly what was happening, had heard the monk reciting some prayer – he didn't know Latin - then his brother suddenly calmed and in minutes he was in deep slumber. Oh, thank God.

The monk guiding Duccio and the farrier stopped in front of a door, opened it, and told the two of them to go in. They heard the door shutting behind them. It was pitch dark. Where were the confessors, and why were he and the farrier still together? Somebody grasped Duccio from behind, a hard grip he was unable to shake, then his head was turned back and something sharp pierced his neck. A searing pain and then numbness…The butcher's last thought, when he understood he was dying, was for his brother: who would take care of him now?

**.**

**(Guerrino)**

Under the flickering light of a candle the apothecary looked at the woman, transfixed. Agnese, the way she must have looked when she had drowned. Pale, pale skin, the face frozen in a sneer, hair flowing. But, why were her lips so red and why was she wearing a nun's garb, albeit open at the neck, so that part of her chest was exposed?

"Agnese," he rasped, "have you come to kill me?"

The woman laughed, a tinkling sound that did not belong with her expression.

"I am not Agnese, but yes, you are going to die. Who is Agnese?"

Without answering, Guerrino looked around for a way of escape. Indeed, he was trapped with her in a cell and she was standing in front of the door. But, if she was not a vengeful ghost, if she was just a woman - and of slight build at that - how could she kill him? She didn't seem to have a knife or anything. He prepared to defend himself.

A minute later he was disabused of his optimism. The creature in front of him, no, not a woman for sure, had jumped on him and was keeping him down, the resemblance between her and Agnese terrifying. He tried weakly to fend her off until she broke his arm. White, strong teeth flashed. Under those teeth, Guerrino found his end.

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**(Adso)**

It was time to satisfy Aro's thirst. Adso accosted Bonizella and told her to follow him. The Abbot himself would hear her confession.

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**(Velia)**

Velia was fuming. So Bonizella, that arrogant bitch, one so stuck up that butter wouldn't melt in her mouth, had received the honor of being confessed by the Abbot himself? Trust the stupid monk not to be able to recognize a lady of quality…

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_A few hours earlier, in San Gimignano_

**.**

**(Alina)**

Alina had slept well into the following day. When she awoke, it was already afternoon and she had a splitting headache, having drained all the wine in the jug before going to bed. When Adso had left, she had felt overwhelmed by a revelation he had not allowed her to formulate in words: a vampire, he was a vampire. Her mind stumbled on the concept and refused to go on, to contemplate all the implications. And so she had drank, to forget, to lose herself in slumber. She was very tired, after all.

But now she was awake and could not shut her mind anymore. She ate what was left of the pears and cheese she had prepared for her inhuman lover the night before. Fool that she had been: he was a vampire and those like him drank only the blood of their victims, didn't they? But, he did not drink from her. She had spent hours in his cold, strong arms, and he hadn't hurt her. Yesterday, however, he had been tempted, because of her little wound, but he had resisted the urge, had bitten his own hand instead. Albeit she did not know much about his true nature, she realized he must love her to go against his most basic instincts. He was a monster, but he loved her. And she, Alina, did she love him still, despite what she knew?

_May God forgive me,_ she thought, _because I do. I love him, whatever he is._

It was late now. In a few hours the pilgrims would reach Petrina. She recalled how strongly he had been against her continuing the pilgrimage. He didn't want here there. Why, what would happen there? It was not him who was the danger, she was sure. Because, even if he fed on human blood, the pilgrims were too many for a single bloodsucker, and he could have taken them down whenever he wanted, anytime. He hadn't, but he had been adamant that Alina should not go with them.

_Go to Rome,_ he had said. _I'm not sending you away. I'm only trying to help you! _Help against what? Other words came to her memory, one after the other: _Believe me, you can't continue with us, it is too dangerous… _and, another time_: __I have done dreadful things, Alina, things I am ashamed of. When I was changed I fell under the domination of cruel people and had to do their bidding. _

_We'll leave together after I have absolved my task, _he had promised. And, finally he had said_:__I have to report to my masters, but after that I'll be free to leave them._

So, he had to complete a task he had been given by evil masters, as he himself had defined them. Who were those masters? What was the reason he dressed like a monk? To divert pilgrims so that they followed him, her brain answered. But why would he do that, unless…

Unless, like him, other vampires wore a monk's garb. What if the whole Order of Saint Marcus were a vampires' coven instead? And now Adso was leading the pilgrims to them!

Preposterous, incredible but her heart, gone suddenly cold, told her it was the truth.

Oh God, they were all going to die: Masino, who was younger than she was, Ada, a sweet, motherly woman who had been kind to her, Duccio, so tender with his poor brother, Omodeo, whose sad eyes concealed some secret pain… but even the ones who were not so likeable didn't deserve to die.

She had to stop them; she had to try saving them before they reached Petrina. If they turned around, if they fled, it wouldn't be Adso's fault. Surely, his masters wouldn't punish him. But, were the other pilgrims going to believe her? The sheer impossibility of her task was daunting, but she had to try, at least try.

Adso's desperate plea was impressed in her mind: _Save me, love, save me from myself._

It was for him, then, not only for her fellow pilgrims, that she had to prevent the massacre.

As fast as she could she dressed, packed her few belongings and went downstairs to settle her bill. She asked for directions to Petrina, then went to the stables, saddled Morello, left the Mule, passed the town's gate and finally was on her way.

But it was late, late; she'd never catch up with them in time, at this pace. She spurred her mount to a gallop. How long could the poor animal keep it up? Not for long, she knew.

"Forgive me, Morello," she cried, "but you have go like the wind. Please, please, don't fail me."

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Endnotes

Oh Alina, could you not wait for Adso to come back? Thank you for reading and please, tell me what you think.

The vampire who took care of Baldo's tantrum had the talent to make humans fall asleep. A convenient gift when hunting men. We'll know more about him in the next chapter.

Guerrino's death. Of course the coven's females came in through the tunnel, to get their share. More about this tunnel in the next chapter.

I know nothing about horses, but I was told by Fantasy Mother, who is an expert in this field, that - despite what one might see in films - a gallop of more than a couple of miles would kill a horse or at least make it lame. Therefore Alina is doing something very risky.


	17. Chapter 17 Darkest Night

**The Pilgrimage by Camilla10**

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Chapter 17 – Darkest night

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_Previously in Chapter 16_

"_Forgive me, Morello," she cried," but you have go like the wind. Oh please, don't fail me."_

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**(Alina)**

But Morello failed her, despite his generous heart. After some time and few, very few, miles, the horse stumbled once, then started to limp, then the limp was more pronounced, then…

Alina dismounted. She refused to think of the damage she had inflicted on the poor animal, damage beyond repair, probably. She wanted to continue, however, so now she had to walk. Having tied the horse with a long rope to the low branch of a tree, she moved away. She did not turn back, ashamed of leaving Morello alone, lame, lathered with his hard gallop, and at the mercy of the wind and any passerby. It was dark now and her mission seemed doomed, but she stubbornly trudged on. Hours passed. The night wore on but no castle lay in sight, and still she walked, convinced she had failed.

There were rites to perform, when they arrived and a dinner and confessions, surely, she mused. Or were they killed as soon they passed the gates? Maybe not. Maybe they would be allowed to spend the night and only afterwards … But how would she be able to gain entrance? The full understanding of her foolishness was dawning on her. But she could not stop. Because, at the end of her walk there was Adso and she needed to look into his eyes, and see if they were the eyes of an unrepentant murderer or of the man who had said that he was going to change, for her.

She sensed something. No not a noise, just a change in the texture of the night. Dawn was coming, and it was getting easier to see. Then she felt that somebody was approaching, fast. Truly scared, Alina hid behind bushes, well knowing that they would not conceal her from supernatural beings.

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**(Godenzo and Ada)**

Before being turned into a vampire Godenzo had been a priest. A run of the mill one, perhaps, but honest. After his newborn stage he had accepted his fate, understanding that Aro had had him transformed because he needed to be schooled by religious men in the ways of the Church and the rules of its cult. He also acknowledged that he was not going to be set free easily – not that a nomadic existence appealed to him, he was accustomed to having structure in his life – but he had been obliged to make peace with this new servitude because he was essential to the coven for the right celebration of ceremonies and the administration of sacraments.

What Aro did not realize, not having a deep interest in theology, was that, despite being a vampire, Godenzo was still a priest. Once ordained, you are a priest for life and, if you don't die, then you are a priest forever. Priests that left the religious life for any reason - or were guilty of unforgivable crimes - would normally be suspended "_a divinis", _forbidden to say Mass and administer sacraments. But the reason for the prohibition was precisely because the fallen priest, even the suspended priest, was still a priest and he had to be stopped, somehow. For if he consecrated the bread, it** did** become Christ's body, and the wine His blood. And, if he absolved a sinner, the sinner **was** absolved. A suspended priest administering these sacraments would be excommunicated, but the power was still with him. _Tu es _S_acerdos in aeternum._

Nobody had suspended Godenzo, however. He had just disappeared under circumstances that had left the impression he was dead, and that was that. Therefore, he continued to act as a priest, finding consolation in the rituals. He feared he would be damned, if ever his existence would come to an end, but he tried his best. He was chaste. Of course he killed humans and drank from them, he was a vampire and not by choice, but kept his feeding to the absolute minimum, abstaining as much as he could. And he liked to confess his victims. He knew he had the faculty to send them to their Maker absolved and pure, straight to Heaven in fact, and it comforted him.

"So, daughter," he said to the woman kneeling in front of him, "you deceived your employers and planted your little cuckoo in their nest."

"I know it was wrong, father, but they are happy, and my son will never want for anything."

"You know, however, what your penance should be? You should confess the truth and set everything straight."

"No, not that. Don't ask me that, Father, I'd prefer to die!" cried Ada, dissolving in tears.

"Your choice. However, the child would suffer, if the truth came out now, and he is innocent. Very well, I'll not make a condition of it, then. But, if I do absolve you, you will have to spend the rest of your life atoning for what you did. Are you prepared to accept your penance?"

"Yes, father, yes, anything," was Ada's fervent answer.

However, the prayers she had to say and the pious acts she was told to perform were not particularly onerous, because Godenzo did not consider her very guilty. The love of a mother would find in the Blessed Virgin a powerful advocate. And, in any case, it was a moot point, as she had only minutes to live.

"_Ego the absolvo a peccatis tuis…" t_he immortal priest recited, then laid his hands on her bowed head and added the verses that helped him to concentrate. In a little while she was in a deep slumber, so she did not feel the sharp teeth. It was all part of a dream. She had a throat ache… but she also saw Giannetto as a young man, handsome and tall, such a joy to behold, then she saw a light, a bright light that called to her and was lost in it.

**.**

**(Adso)**

The night went on and on. Adso had been the one to take Omodeo to his fate. It had been his turn to accompany a penitent, and shunning the task because he liked the man had seemed hypocritical. But he had not calculated how much he had changed in a few days. Unbidden, words had escaped him.

"Do you still wish to die, Omodeo?" he had asked, stopping in front of a door.

"Yes, but why are you asking?" the arbalester had answered, surprised.

"Because, behind that door, you will find your death." Nothing but the truth would do. The man in front of him deserved it; he deserved to master his fate, as far as that was possible.

"So. Could I escape? Could I fight you, or whatever waits for me?'" Omodeo did not seem afraid, but was looking at him with earnest eyes. It was as though he had suddenly understood everything.

"No, I am sorry."

"Then it will not be suicide," Omodeo had sighed, "I am free to die. Please, open the door for me, Brother, and good bye."

Now, coming back, a bittersweet sense of relief pervaded Adso's mind. He wondered if, behind the door, Marcus had heard him speaking with Omodeo, and if he had felt the broken bond that crushed the arbalester's spirit, exactly as the loss of Didyme crushed his. Had he been aware that, this time, in giving death he was giving a long-awaited release?

Continuing along the corridor, he saw Dominic accompanying Velia. The vampire reached the door of the cell Aro was using, knocked and let the woman in. Adso stopped walking and waited for him, puzzled.

"Is our Master feeding twice?" he asked. It was not like Aro. He could do what he wanted, to be sure, but gluttony was not his style.

"Ha," laughed Dominic. "He did not drain the handsome woman, Bonizella. Not completely, that is. So now she is turning and he is still thirsty; more, possibly, because he had to restrain himself. In any case, the Master decided she would make a wonderful immortal. I don't know how much this will please Sulpicia, but it is not our concern.

"I have carried Bonizella to the middle of the tunnel, to muffle her screams. For a woman, she has powerful lungs; listen." And indeed, paying attention, Adso could hear the faint noises coming from far away. Previously, he had been unconcerned by the screams he had sometimes heard. In a night like this it was normal. Not all vampires killed cleanly.

"Two sisters are attending to her," Dominic continued. "It will be necessary to take a pilgrim there for them to feed upon, and also to set someone aside for when the newborn awakens. For that, I think the painter's apprentice will do. He has to wait for his master, anyway, or so he thinks. Well, he will have to wait for three days. I'll ask Godenzo to make him sleep. And whom do you think I should take into the tunnel now?"

Adso found he had a name to suggest.

"But make sure he has washed properly, first," he added.

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**(Cosimo)**

The notary was given to the two females attending Bonizella. The pair had made an art of sharing and playing with their food. Undaunted by the noise Bonizella was making in the throes of her change, they took their time with Cosimo. Both were dainty about their repast and he became a quivering mass of bloodied flesh well before he was completely drained and allowed to die. Plenty of time, in any case, for him to bitterly repent having followed Velia and Masino on the pilgrimage.

**.**

**(Adso)**

It was done. Everybody was gone: Vanna, the two embroiderers, the baker, the beekeeper, the cheese maker, all the others. Well, apart from Leonello's apprentice, now slumbering inside the tunnel. That was not a death Adso intended to wait for. He would go to the refectory one last time to check if anybody had been missed, then he could prepare himself to leave.

Somebody **had** indeed been missed: Baldo was still asleep in a corner of the deserted room, waiting for his brother. Duccio, however, would never come back for him. The lad's sleep was not peaceful and Adso wondered if he sensed what had befallen his sibling.

Dominic was hovering over his body. On sensing Adso approaching, the other vampire stood.

"Like me, you have not fed, I suppose," he said. "Want him?" This was very generous on his part. In his own way Dominic had friendly feelings for Adso, dating from the time he had pleaded for his life in the Balkans.

"No, I… I fed while still travelling. A boy ran away … personal reasons, but I caught up with him." There, he had added a layer of protection to Masino's flight. If Aro had bothered to read Velia before killing her, he might have learned that a boy had escaped and wonder why Adso had allowed it. In this way, if the matter were ever discussed after his departure, Dominic could tell Aro that nobody had in fact escaped. As for Alina, she had left the pilgrimage earlier, and she must not have been prominent in Velia's or even Bonizella's thoughts. At least, that was what he hoped for.

So now Baldo would quench Dominic's thirst. Why did he find it so painful?

"The poor simpleton is completely innocent, I wish he would not die…" he murmured almost to himself, knowing that his words were useless.

"Are you getting soft, Adso?"

"Maybe I am. I am tired of interacting with humans so closely. In fact, Aro has granted me a leave of absence …"

"Mmm, that happens to Lures, I know. But your pity is unnecessary. If the boy is innocent, he'll go to Heaven immediately, or so Godenzo would tell you." Dominic smirked, adding:

"Plus, what life could he have without his brother? No, he is better off dead, believe me."

Dominic was swift enough, normally, but he was not gentle. Since with his gift he could keep them unmoving, he did not bother to kill his victims before drinking. Adso thought he could still do something for the doomed boy.

"Please, will you allow me?"

At superhuman speed he bent over Baldo and snapped his neck. Then he offered the still warm corpse to Dominic and left.

He was finally going to his cell, to shed the monk's garb for a layman's dress. But he was stopped on his way up by a beautiful vampire: Ruby. With the bright red eyes of her kind after feeding, and smiling wide, she put a hand on his arm. _Hell._

"Are you in a hurry, Adso?"

"Yes, I have to pack," he answered stonily.

"And where are you going, if I may ask?"

"I am leaving Petrina for a while, with Aro's permission."

"Mmm," she said, embracing him, nuzzling on his neck, pressing her breasts against his chest, "want me to come with you? I would like to take some leave myself. It could be pleasant."

_God forbid._

"No, Ruby, I will go alone. I need time alone," he said firmly, getting free of her arms as gently as he could.

"Indeed, maybe you need it. You reek of humans," she sneered.

"Yes, I probably do. So let me go and change. I want to be on my way."

Ruby let him go, but he felt her calculating gaze on his back. _Damn her._

.

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**End notes**

In describing Godenzo's religion and beliefs I am of course referring to Roman Catholicism. We are in Italy and well before the Reformation here.

_Tu es Sacerdos in aeternum_ is the consecration formula which means "You are forever a Priest".


	18. Chapter 18 Truth

**The Pilgrimage by Camilla10**

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Chapter 18 – Truth

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**(Adso)**

Adso's cell was a cell only in name, like the other vampires'. Petrina was a castle, not a monastery, and here the fake monks had rooms, not cells. Or, more exactly, the Volturi had created a number of typical cells on the ground floor, similar to the one Aro had used to receive his penitents. But they were just props, to be seen by the rare visitors who came to Petrina and were allowed to leave it again, alive and unscathed. A few officials of the Church, that is. For laymen there was a guesthouse in the main courtyard, but most pilgrims barely saw it, before going to the refectory, inside the main building. After the massacre their belongings were examined by their killers, who kept whatever could be of use and burned the rest along with the exsanguinated bodies.

Knowing well this grim aftermath, Adso was happy not to have anything to do with it this time.

Upstairs, however, the vampires' rooms were epitomes of comfort. True, immortal bodies could survive in the harshest conditions, but why should vampires fornicate on the floor, if they could do it on a soft mattress - even if the mattress sometimes suffered from their inhuman enthusiasm? There were tapestries on the walls and rugs on the stone floors, books, musical instruments, carved chests, mirrors, gaming boards and even lamps and candles. Vampires did not need those, they could see in the dark, but the mellow light offered by candles and oil lamps was pleasing to their eyes.

Adso's room was no different, richly appointed and furnished. His instrument of choice was the psaltery and he looked at it with longing, but could not take it with him. He had to leave the impression he was returning and its bulk would encumber him.

He disrobed and washed, making use of the small basin and ewer in a corner, then opened the chest, looking for something to wear. All the fake monks had layman's garments at their disposal, to be used in missions where the cowl would not be appropriate. As Adso was rarely involved in those, he found it quite strange to be wearing braies and tight breeches again. He chose a dark brown knee length tunic, to wear over his shirt of soft linen, and a mantle. In his sack he put a change of dress and two more shirts and underwear. Looking around he realized there was nothing more he wanted from his room. Indeed, even the psaltery would only remind him of a hateful existence. In any case, he could buy another one someday. He finally collected all the gold and silver coins he had, some of them taken from his prey. _Non olet_, he murmured to himself.

He took a dagger too, a prop if ever there was one, as his natural weapons were much deadlier. But travelers had to be armed, and show that they were. As a last thing he wondered if he was going to put a book in his sack. Dante's Commedia beckoned to him but, strictly speaking, it was not his; it belonged to the coven. Plus, the roughness of travelling would probably damage it. And it, too, was bulky. No, he would rely on his perfect memory to recall the verses into his mind.

In a short while Adso had left Petrina behind him.

It was barely dawn. He could be with Alina well before the sun was high; together they would flee as far as possible. They needed to speak, but not near Petrina or even San Gimignano. He wondered if they should go to a seaport and take a boat. The Mediterranean was not very far.

He ran, staying in the woods but advancing in parallel with the road. Every minute he felt more relieved. He had managed it, he had escaped, Aro had been fine with him leaving, had authorized it; he was free, _free_.

Adso was also thirsty. Unfortunately all the blood spilled in the castle had taken its toll on him. He considered if he should hunt before going back to Alina, but he did not want to lose time; he needed to see her, so he didn't stop. Until a surprising scent came to his nostrils. No, not boar or deer … it was the most delicious smell in the world, one that elicited not his thirst but his passion. Cinnamon and lavender, Alina's scent.

Where … where? How could she be here, why was she not in San Gimignano waiting for him? He emerged on the road from the trees, inhaling, all his senses on alert.

"Alina," he said firmly. "I know you are near. Please, show yourself."

.

**(Alina)**

Thank God, it was Adso. Recognizing his voice, she came out from the bushes and looked at him in the dim light, doing a double take. Gone was the monk; here she saw a tall, well-dressed traveler, his long legs hugged by form fitting green breeches. He looked younger and so handsome. But his face was grim, under his hat.

"What happened? Why are you here Alina? It is very dangerous:"

She was not going to be distracted, however; the answers she needed from him were more important than his questions.

"No, **you** tell me what happened to the pilgrims. Where are they?"

He stilled. Then, in a whisper, he answered:

"All gone. They are dead."

"All dead?" she cried, "oh Adso, what did you do?"

"I did what I have done for a long time now. I told you I belonged to evil masters and had to do their bidding. My masters are vampires too, and I bring their prey to them. I am a Lure."

To hear her worst fears confirmed by simple, dispassionate words was too much for Alina. Exhausted, her ears rumbling, she felt her legs giving way and the ground coming up to her face.

.

When Alina came to, she was sitting on the ground, Adso's arms around her. She didn't feel bruised, so evidently he had caught her before the fall. In his light embrace she could sense his tenderness for her, so at odds with what he had done. She pushed his arms away and he did not resist.

Adso had carried her behind the bushes where she had concealed herself before. Turning, she looked at him full in the face. He looked defeated.

"So, they were all taken? Ada, Omodeo, Duccio, Masino…"

"No, not Masino. I was able to let him escape before we reached Petrina. But he was the only one I could save, apart from you. I am sorry."

"Did … did you drink from them too? Whom did you kill?" It was horrible, but she needed to know everything. His answer, which rang as true as his previous, harsh words had done, surprised her.

"No, I didn't, I did not kill anybody myself, apart from Baldo, to spare him pain. But I did not drink from him or any of the others. I am done with drinking human blood."

"But, if you are a vampire... how is this possible?

"I can hunt animals and quench my… thirst with them. I just discovered it a few days ago. I did not know before, I swear it. Had I known ... I would not have done all the awful things I did since I was turned. Things for which there is no forgiveness possible. But it is true. I'll never kill humans again for their blood; this I can promise you."

While speaking his voice had risen, changing from the flat monotone it had been before. Passion and despair were mixed in it. "_No forgiveness possible,"_ he had said. Was it so? Could she ever forgive what he had done?

"I feared that was what was going to happen," Alina finally said. "When I realized it, I tried to reach you in time, before you arrived. I wanted to save them, if I could. But, more than that, I wanted to save you."

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**(Adso)**

Adso contemplated her, amazed. _Foolish, brave, loving woman, there was no way you could have prevented it. _

"No, love," the word passed his lips, even if he feared he had no right anymore to call her so, even if now she had been told the truth in the worst possible way, even if he had not had the least chance to ease her into it.

"No, you would only have been killed," Adso continued. "The leader of my coven, Abbot Aro, as he pretends to be, can read minds. If the pilgrims didn't arrive when expected, he would have sent out a search party, and the guards have powers too. We would have been found and the pilgrims retraced. Then he would have read our thoughts and memories, I would have been destroyed, and you added to… to the banquet. No escape was possible, trust me."

"No escape…" Alina repeated his words, perhaps finally realizing, he hoped, why he had been obliged to carry on with his unspeakable mission.

"Would you have told me everything, if I had not come in search of you?" she asked.

"Yes, but only when we would have been very far from here. We are free to go now. I have been granted a long leave, albeit Aro doesn't know I will not be returning to Petrina. Ever. Alina, we cannot linger, we have to go. Even if you decide you don't want anything to do with me anymore, please, allow me to bring you to a safer place, first. Where is your horse?"

"Oh God, I forgot about him," Alina cried, dismayed. "I spurred him too much, he went lame and I had to leave him. He is farther back on the road. He must be very ill, I may have killed him."

"Fine, let's find Morello and see how things are with him. I'll take you back to San Gimignano, but then I am afraid I will have to leave you, though for no more than a hour, I hope."

"Why?

"I... I am thirsty," Adso confessed, ashamed. What happened in Petrina was… difficult. I don't want to be a danger for you, so I need to hunt, but I'll be quick about it. You can eat something too, while you wait. Please, allow me to carry you, we will go faster."

In this way Alina discovered the wonder of running with a vampire, carried on his back: the landscape around her a blur, the wind on her face. A horse at full gallop was slower than a snail, in comparison. Despite all that troubled her and the uncertainty of the situation, she felt exhilarated, for the short time it lasted.

Then reality asserted itself. Morello was dying. No longer standing, he lay on his side, breath rattling. He had suffered too much already; the agony should not be allowed to continue. Alina drew her knife and, trembling with guilt and sorrow, prepared herself to do what was needed.

"Shall I do it for you?" Adso asked softly. "I can break his neck; he will not feel anything."

"Yes, please," she answered, but then added, "drink his blood Adso. You need it and Morello does not anymore."

.

Notes

So, the unpalatable truth is out. How will they manage it?

Well, if you like my story this is the right time to tell your friends about it. There are not a lot of chapters left and I know that people, due to certain events in California, might prefer to read stories where there is not the usual Edward and Bella pairing. Well, at least for a while.

The psaltery (_psalterion, Psalterium, Psalter, salterio_) is an ancient instrument seen in many forms. Early versions were simply a wooden board with gut strings stretched between pegs. The strings were plucked with fingers or by plectra (the name might have derived from the Greek _psallein_ meaning plucked with fingers). Later instruments included the hollow box or soundboard with sound holes and metal strings. The player performed with the instrument on his lap or on a table, or in front of his chest held with a strap around his neck, if movement was needed. The psaltery was widely used until about 1500. It is thought that the psaltery evolved into the harpsichord, zither, and other instruments.

_Non Olet_, a Latin phrase still used in Italy, it means "It does not stink", referred to money. The sense is that, even when ill gained – and therefore stinking - money is so useful that we don't perceive its bad smell.


	19. Chapter 19 Vampire

**The Pilgrimage by Camilla10**

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Chapter 19 - Vampire

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_Previously_

"_Drink his blood Adso. You need it and Morello does not anymore."_

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**(Alina)**

On hearing her words Adso's face slackened in shock.

"Do you… do you really want me… to drink?" he whispered, almost disbelieving what he had heard.

"Yes, Adso, do it, do it now!" Alina urged.

Obviously the suffering horse's life had to be ended without delay. Adso nodded, still looking dazed, and knelt near the trembling animal.

"Don't look, Alina," he pleaded.

"No, I need to see. I owe it to Morello and you owe it to me." And, if he was confused by her words, she wanted him to be.

So, she was looking, but almost didn't catch the movement of his hands. It was just a flash and she heard the snap of a bone breaking. The horse's body stilled.

_Hands so strong that they can kill in an instant, yet so gentle when they caressed me, gentle even when they left some bruises in his passion_… Alina watched as Adso lowered his head to Morello's neck. He bit into it, spat a morsel of hide and flesh and then… and then he was drinking. From the opening of his shirt she could see his Adam's apple going up and down while he gulped. He had closed his eyes and, yes, the expression of his face was of pleasure, unmistakable, almost mindless pleasure. She shuddered, realizing that it was not only horror that she felt, or sadness for the death of a beloved horse; she felt desire for the powerful body of her lover, so different, so dangerous, so alien, but still… so attractive to her. The rapture on his face she recognized, she had seen it before, when he had found release in her.

She knew she wanted to see that expression again, and again. That had not changed. Would it ever change? Was it depravity? Or was it love? _Would I have the strength to renounce him?_

Minutes passed._ How much blood does a horse have?_ Finally, Adso rose, and she rose too. He was standing with his arms at his sides, head lowered. Then he looked at her and she gasped. His irises were bright red.

"Now you have seen what I do, what I am."

"Your eyes…" she said.

"They must be very red. I know. It happens when we take blood." Again his voice had turned to the hideous monotone of before: a voice devoid of hope.

Alina wondered if he had understood what she had meant, what he owed her. She had to explain.

"Indeed, you are a vampire," she said. "But one who drinks animal blood, now. I …I believed you, yet I felt the need to have proof of it, to see with my own eyes the truth of your words. That is what you owed me after all of your evasions. Thank you, Adso, for showing me."

"And where does it leave us?" he asked after a while.

"I don't know." And she really didn't.

"I have to take care of Morello's body, now."

What followed she could hardly believe. Moving impossibly fast Adso uprooted a few bushes until he had created a sizable hole on the ground, which he deepened somehow, she could not see exactly what he was doing: he moved too fast. Then he took the dead horse as though it were weightless, and lowered it gently into the earth.

"What do you want me to do with the saddle? I could bury it, but it is a good one and you might want another horse. I can carry it for you. Hell, I can carry it, you, and what little luggage we have."

This kind but mundane concern, united with the inhuman show he was giving her, left Alina almost speechless.

Finally, she murmured:

"It was a present from my father. I would keep it if I could."

In seconds her horse had disappeared and the bushes were replanted over its body. So this was the way vampires disposed of their victims' remains: as if they had never existed.

So convenient, so frightening.

"Adso, how many times have you done this?" she asked, appalled.

"More than you can count. I have done it for decades." No self-justification, nothing like it: just the simple, ugly truth.

"Is this…is this the way the other pilgrims also disappeared**?"**

"No, they were too many. In Petrina we burn them. We have built a furnace for this. It must be happening right now. I would be helping with the burning, had I not left."

People she had walked with, broken bread with… ashes now. He must have fathomed her thoughts, because he added:

"Yes, Alina, I am a monster." And she trembled at the infinite sadness in his voice. But she could not answer him.

Alina's emotions were so turbulent that she could barely think beyond moving one step at a time. She was bursting with things she wanted to ask, but she was shocked and confused, and not even sure she could get the proper words out. Her lover's pained, interrogative expression indicated that he, too, had things he wanted to ask her, but didn't dare, fearing her rejection, convinced that her repugnance was absolute.

Was it?

"There is no need to go back to San Gimignano, now," Adso said instead. "But you should eat. How long is it since you have taken any food?"

Her stomach was so contracted, her exhaustion so deep, that she couldn't even think about eating. So she mumbled that she had cheese and some water with her, but was not hungry and the sooner they left the road they were on, the better. Other travelers could turn up at any moment, as the day advanced.

"Fine, we will move through the woods. We will go to Porto Pisano. If you climb on my b…" and he suddenly stopped speaking, inhaling, his face furious.

A moving blur materialized in front of them and stilled. To Alina's astonished eyes it took a feminine form or, rather, the improbable form of a nun. A very strange one, to be sure, headdress askew, red hair flowing, her black tunic open to give a glimpse of a voluptuous torso, and a beautiful pale face

"Ruby," Adso hissed.

"And what do we have here?" the nun asked. "Who is your friend, Adso?"

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**(Adso)**

The extreme danger of the situation did not escape him. He did not know if Ruby had followed him on her own, or if she had been sent. If she was sent, they were finished already. If not, they might have a chance. Instinct told him not to react immediately as if he wanted a fight. He was stronger, but Ruby was a seasoned warrior, older and more experienced than he. If they fought and she eluded him even for a second, that second would be all she needed to kill Alina.

His love had gone deathly pale, meanwhile. She must have realized that the woman confronting them was a vampire too. One that was getting nearer, circling around them and sniffing openly.

"A human, Adso, really? Were you going to have a separate meal? Why?" Then her sense of smell registered what she was inhaling.

"My God, the human boy must have bathed in your scent, how ...?" And then her face hardened, for she thought she understood, now.

"Christ's Blood, is he your plaything? A boy, Adso, a male? I see now why you were so hard to get. Your tastes run in a different direction, don't they? But there was more than one among us who would have been happy to oblige, and you never..."

"No, you have it all wrong, it is not like that." Adso interrupted, knowing he had to penetrate her growing anger, the deadly anger of a scorned vampire.

"All wrong you say? What are you, an inverted incubus? Or do you play the succubus with him?" she sneered. "It is well known that human adolescents have stamina almost rivaling vampires'! Was he among the pilgrims and you stashed him away, cheating your coven of our prey? Does he know what you are? Aro won't forgive that, you know… And to think that I was following you and hoping …I left word I was taking a leave too. What a fool!"

This was what Adso had hoped to hear. She was on her own. Now he concentrated desperately on his luring power. The lie he was about to utter had to be believed. It would distract her, giving him the extra moment he needed.

"He is my singer, Ruby."

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**(Alina)**

Most of the conversation between the two immortals had escaped Alina; they spoke low and fast and the words were unintelligible to human ears. The fury on the nun's face, a fake nun obviously, was impossible to miss, but that was all. Why so furious? She also sensed that Adso wanted her to remain impassive and, in any case, there was nothing she could do to protect herself. But his last sentence was enunciated clearly, even if it did not make any sense to her. _Il mio cantante._ What did it mean? It was obvious, however, that it made sense to the other vampire, because she froze.

Adso took Alina's hand with his own and continued.

"I wanted to enjoy him in solitude. You have no idea… or maybe you can feel it," and, with his other hand's hard fingernail he punctured her skin. She gasped and then gasped again, seeing the transformation on Ruby's face, her tortured grimace, her teeth bared at the bleeding hand.

Faster than lightening Adso moved, letting her hand go. Alina could not see him grasping the nun's temples, she saw only the result: a head lying on the ground near a beheaded vampire body.

Adso tore a piece of his linen shirt and bandaged Alina's hand. He didn't seem affected by her blood this time.

"I am sorry, love, I had to distract her," he said. "I didn't hurt you too much, did I? I think we are safe. She came on her own."

She shook her head dumbly. It was true that when he had punctured her hand he hadn't hurt her. But, when he had accosted her again after the kill, she'd had an almost overpowering urge to put her bleeding hand to her lips...yes, to feed him. _God, how sick was that, how sick am I?_ As for the rest that happened, she was completely at a loss.

"Adso, you have lost me. I can't understand anything!" she cried.

"I will tell you everything you want to know. The time for evasions is past. But first I have to incinerate the body."

Then, noticing her bewildered expression, he added.

"You know, she is not really dead yet, not until I burn her. Our body parts reattach, otherwise, and we can rise again." Alina flinched.

"I can't do it here, I can't leave traces," he continued, "I need a river. But I am afraid to leave you alone, so you must come with me. I am more sorry than I can say, for you to witness this. But there is not, there was not**,** another solution."

He took his mantle from his sack and enveloped the severed head in it.

"You have to climb on my back, because I need my hands free to carry the body and the head." Adso told her. "We will leave the saddle here under the bushes and come back afterward. The Era riverbank is not far. Let us be quick about it and soon you will be free of me, free of this horror, I promise."

Dazed, she did what he asked. She was torn by conflicting emotions, she didn't know what to think and the simpler thing was to go along. While he ran she closed her eyes. Head resting between his neck and his shoulder, Alina could breath his delicious scent, feel the wonderful softness of the hair caressing her cheek. _I am a_ _monster_, he had said, _soon you will be free of me. _She didn't realize she was crying until she felt the tears wetting her shirt and his. Adso, too, must have noticed, but he didn't react.

Very soon they reached the Era river, still flowing with water after the abundant spring rains.

"Don' t look, Alina," he told her, but she didn't obey. So she saw him break Ruby's body in pieces, producing harsh tearing sounds, and then throw the flaming-haired head onto the pile. The dismembered limbs were moving like snails, she realized, feeling nauseated. Adso added wood sticks and dry grass, then took out from his sack a tinder box and produced some sparks. It would not have been enough to ignite a bonfire but, to her surprise, the body itself took fire and burned with frightening speed. A purplish smoke and a strong odor of incense pervaded the air. When the fire had burned down, Adso kicked the ashes, with the dirt and gravel around it, into the waters. The odor was dispersing and there was no trace of the fire anymore.

"This, Alina," he said with a stony voice, "is how you destroy a vampire. Fire is the only thing that can harm us, if our so-called flesh is wounded or opened in any way. The fact that Ruby followed me is fortunate: now my coven will think that we have gone away together, and, when we don't come back, they will not have a tracker anymore to send after us. In fact I was stupid, I should have lured her to follow me, shown myself available as she desired, and then killed her."

"But you didn't," observed Alina. Jealousy obviously had no part in this conversation.

"No. I am tired of killing people, be they vampires or humans. As my comrade at arms Dominic rightly observed a few hours ago, I am getting soft." The bitter irony in his words was heartbreaking. "But this time killing was unavoidable," he concluded.

Adso scooped Alina in his arms and ran back to where Morello was buried.

"I had thought to take a ship with you and go to Venice. Far, very far from Tuscany and the Volturi." He told her. "But that was before… before all that has happened today. And it was wrong on my part, to conceal from you the worst aspects of my reality. What was I thinking?

"So, tell me where you want me to take you. You can choose any place. I will not leave you unprotected after that, but you won't see me again, I swear."

Drawing a long breath Alina opened her mouth…

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Notes

What is she going to tell him? Please, if you feel like it, do leave me a review.

In the Twilight Saga Edward never allows human Bella to see him hunting. He explains that when he gives in to his predatory instincts his humanity is almost lost, and he could perceive her as prey and harm her. Very few authors have deviated from this. However, Adso was not hunting when he drained Morello, so he was not dangerous to Alina. In _Our New World_ Edward drinks animal blood from a thermos without switching to a predator mode.

As stated at the beginning, the vampires in this story are not canonic. They don't sparkle and their eyes are so dark red as to appear just black to humans. Immediately after drinking blood of any kind, they become bright red, but only for a short time. Would their eyes become amber colored after a steady diet of animal blood? You have to wait and see.


	20. Chapter 20 Prostrated

**The Pilgrimage by Camilla10**

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Chapter 20 – Prostrated

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Note

I take the opportunity to say **BUON FERRAGOSTO** to my readers (it is a religious festivity, but it also marks the first half of our vacation time. (We take August rather than July, and schools start again only in September).

I am at home, though, Rome is deserted, no traffic and you can park everywhere!

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_Previously in Chapter 19_

"_So, tell me where you want me to take you. You can choose any place. And I will not leave you unprotected, but you will not see me again, I swear."_

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**(Adso)**

Drawing a long breath Alina opened her mouth… and screamed. In fact, she was yelling. At him.

"NOOO, you are mad if you think I am going to answer you now! Christ, Adso, I am human, if you are not. I have not slept, I have walked all night, I have seen things that nobody… nobody ever saw and lived to tell, and **you** want an answer? I will not tell you anything, not until I have rested and thought about everything and **you** have answered all my questions. So take me to an inn, but far from here. Now. Let's go."

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_The morning after – An inn between the Era Valley and Porto Pisano_

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**(Alina)**

Alina was lying on the bed, eyes shut, faking sleep. She suspected that Adso could sense she was play-acting, but she was unwilling to face the new day.

After her outburst, he hadn't said anything more. He had just nodded and helped her onto his back; then he'd taken the saddle and their sacks and started running into the woods. They had been far from the Era valley and near Pisa when he'd finally left the shelter of the forest and let her dismount. From there, they'd had to walk on a road, where there would be people around.

At a crossing, they had found an inn that looked well kept and had stopped. Still without speaking to her, Adso had led Alina in and commanded the best room available. Then he'd had two big bowls of the only item in the inn's menu – lentil soup – brought to the room and had made Alina eat both.

"Go to bed, Alina," he had eventually said, and had retreated near the wall, keeping as still as a statue. At her obvious question he had answered that vampires didn't sleep. Ever. Alina had undressed to her shirt and lain down. Despite her fatigue, it had taken her a lot of time to fall into a troubled and fretful slumber.

But now it was morning and she was supposed to ask him questions. However, she realized that the unspeakable things she had learned and witnessed the day before made many of her possible questions redundant. She knew the essentials already. Adso was a vampire; one who, however, had recently decided to feed on animal blood – a possibility he had not previously been aware of – and in fact he had drunk it in front of her.

But, much worse, for a long time he had worked for a powerful coven of the undead and had procured victims for them. He had called himself a Lure and had not tried to paint what he had been doing in better colors, self-loathing evident in all his words. Adso had also explained that he had now left that coven, but he had been obliged to carry out his last mission to its bitter end, because he could not have saved the pilgrims, only added Alina and himself to the condemned. And, if the frightening creature who had come after him was representative of his former associates, he had been right.

Alina sighed and opened her eyes, pulling herself up to a sitting position. Adso was still standing against the wall. _My God, has he remained like that all night? Is he intentionally giving me continuous proof of his inhuman nature in order to make me fear and hate him? _

And, finally, this was the question that burned her lips:

"Are you pushing me away?"

Unmoving, he sustained her gaze:

"Is it even necessary? You have seen what I am, you must be repulsed, and rightly so."

She was, or had thought she should be. But, perversely, she was angered by his quiet assumption.

"Don't presume to tell me what I feel. Tell me what **you** feel. The truth, Adso."

He lowered his eyes.

"I am ashamed because I dared to hope what I should never have hoped for. Something that could never be. Forgive me if I tried to lead you astray. You are too good for the likes of me, and I… I took advantage of you… in every way. I am unworthy even to ask it, but, forgive me if you can. Even better… forget me."

"Is this what you are saying now? That what happened between us was due my weakness and your… _luring_ power? Should I feel shame too?" Alina's voice had risen, but lowered again when she added:

"And yet you called me love. You do it still, when you are distracted. Do you love me? Do you really want me to stop loving you?"

Instead of answering, Adso threw himself on the floor. Prone, his head on his hands, unmoving, mute.

It was hardly the response Alina expected. And yet, with his body he was telling her something… she hesitated, on the brink of a revelation.

When was it that a man took this posture? She hadn't seen it, but she remembered what her father had once told her, when a distant relative had become a priest and he had been invited to the ceremony. He had said that the most moving and memorable moment in the ordination ritual had been when the candidate had prostrated himself before the altar, to invoke God's saving mercy and the intercession of all the saints, so that the Holy Ghost would descend on him.

This was what Adso himself would have done, had he become a priest as he was supposed to, an ordained monk of the Dominicans.

But it had not happened, by his choice, and then a creature of the night had stolen his humanity and plunged him into the abyss, to be a monster among monsters.

And now, what was he doing? Awed, she suddenly understood.

_Prostrated in front of Alina, incapable of putting it in words, Adso was telling her that she was his altar, his mediator; through her, he could find again the humanity he had lost. Through her, he could be human again, in spirit, if not with his immortal flesh._

How could she deny him?

.

**(Adso)**

He had no more strength left. Not even the strength to do what was right and rid Alina of his poisonous presence forever. All he could do was to keep silent and refrain from begging her to stay with him, to save him. A few days and a lifetime ago he had said those exact words to her "_please, save me from myself_". He had thought that he could ask her to forgive what he was, but that was before. In the last hours he had seen himself as he must have appeared to Alina's eyes: a pitiless killer, an evil being straight out of a nightmare. No woman who had a care for her immortal soul should be asked to make such a choice. And yet he knew that it was exactly was he was asking, with his prone body, if not with his mouth. No, he should rise, he should leave… But he was too weak, so he cried, the hard dry sobs of his kind wracking his frame.

A thumping heart. A heavenly scent. A soft, warm hand on his cheek. Her sweet, husky voice:

"Shh, Adso, it's all right. I am here. I won't leave you. I love you."

It was all wrong. It was wonderful.

"You are my alpha and my omega, without you I am nothing," he murmured, accepting her gift.

Later on, with Alina cradled in his arms, they finally were able to speak, talking softly through the night…

_._

_Another day, another inn – Porto Pisano_

_._

**(Alina)**

The Venetian galley would sail at dawn, they had been told, and Adso had gone to secure a passage for them - himself and his "younger brother" - to be exact. She wondered when it would be safe for her to shed her masculine garments. Not when travelling on a ship, to be sure, but she was getting sick of them.

"Water is good," he had said, "with you on my back – even if we travelled only by night - we would get to Venice earlier. However, even if the Volturi have lost their best tracker, there is still the possibility that they may send somebody after me, or after Ruby. And vampires can find others of our kind by scent alone. But, once we move over the sea, the track will be lost."

So they had gone to Porto Pisano and now he had left for the docks, asking Alina to stay in the room, stifling as it was. The less people saw them together, the better. Plus, not distracted by her presence and by the need to protect her, he could be more alert to his surroundings, making sure no one was following him, or paying undue attention to his presence.

Tomorrow, if all went well, they would depart for Venice. And after that? The future was so uncertain, thought Alina. One living and one undead: a more unlikely couple could not be imagined. But a couple they were, defying species, nature and religion. _Religion as it is preached, though, not as Christ wanted it to be, telling us that God loves all creatures, and there is hope for everybody._

What would they do? How could they make it work? Adso had said that he wanted to marry her. Even if they would have to tell lies, starting with their names, they were both free to marry. Gold would convince more than one parish priest to forgo banns and other requirements. And, after all, he would not want a couple to continue living in sin…

But, since they had been together in San Gimignano, they had not "sinned" again, if to express physically the passion they had for each other was a sin. After their arrival here, yesterday, they had spoken well into the night, having the meal for Alina brought up in their room again, and then she had surrendered to sleep.

By now Adso had told her all that she had wanted to know about his nature and his dark past, but had promised her that the monster he had been would never possess him again. Now it was Alina who possessed him, for good and for everything that was good.

Alina had answered that she believed him. The very fact that he had stopped drinking human blood from the moment he had learned it was possible, that there was an alternative, proved that he was not inherently evil, not necessarily damned.

Oh yes, she believed that he would leave behind his murderous past, and dedicate himself to loving her. But did she believe in herself and the choice she was making? While waiting for Adso's return, she looked into her soul as dispassionately as she could.

_Is it because you have burned all your bridges, Alina? You don't want to go back home, you don't want to become a nun, you don't want your father's tainted inheritance, you are no longer a virgin. What other choices do you have? What choices are there for a woman, in this world?_

_Had my father not died, or had I not got an obnoxious cousin trying to force me into marriage, had I never known of my father's dishonesty…had I never met Adso… _

_NO._

She felt like a knife was piercing her heart. No, Adso existed for her to find and love. Had she lived a different life, never meeting him, she might have believed herself happy, but she was sure she would have gone through the years with an unexplained sense of emptiness, unable to give it a name but unable to forget it.

But they had met, and now she had her answer:

_Even if I could do what I wanted, even if I was free as men are, I still would choose Adso over everything else._

To acknowledge fully with her mind what her heart had been saying already, both shattered her and made her whole. The immortal man she had ended up with was her alpha and her omega too, and they would learn together what it meant.

In the meanwhile, she had something she wanted to do, before he arrived.

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_Same place, later._

_._

**(Adso)**

Having concluded his business successfully, Adso was coming back with the welcome news that they were going to have a tiny cabin, not just two berths. Surely it would be more comfortable for Alina, since her disguise was so complicated to maintain. He would have to hunt later this night and maybe at least once again when the galley would stop in Naples. Or will he have to do it again in Otranto? The journey would take at least 20 days, if the winds were good, or possibly more, if the oarsmen would have to be pressed into duty. The Venetian galleys - their own and two more - would sail in a convoy, due to the Saracen pirates infesting the Mediterranean and particularly the Adriatic sea.

When the door opened after his knocking, however, Adso was rendered speechless, because in the room there was a beautiful woman waiting for him. Dressed as a female should dress, Alina wore a light green surcoat over a white tunic, her short hair somehow pinned over her head with the help of ribbons and a short veil.

"I had it in my sack," she told him, answering his amazed expression. "I was wearing it when I left and I brought it along. Fortunately, it is not too bulky and it has not creased too much. Had I taken refuge in a nunnery as I was planning, I could hardly have presented myself to a Mother Superior dressed as a boy…"

The pang of anguish Adso felt when she spoke of entering a convent was soon dispelled. That was not going to happen; that dreadful future was no more. She was being playful with him, he realized, there was a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"This time," she said, "it's my turn."

To Adso's surprised delight, nimble hands helped him out of his tunic, then his shirt followed, then his boots, then (at this point he was cooperating eagerly) his tight breeches, until, leaving him only his braies, she stopped.

"Shall I continue?"

"Please."

He felt warm fingers on his hips, clutching the cloth, pushing it down, and finally he was nude and fully aroused in front of her.

"You are too handsome for words," she said, "and you are mine."

Alina undressed slowly for him, a delightful vision of feminine beauty and they came together with passion and tenderness. Exploring, caressing, licking, inhaling, lapping and finally joining and bringing blessed release to each other.

_You are mine_, she had said, making him feel warm, as if his body were alive again. Yes, he belonged, he was owned, but the chains which held him were chains of love. No longer a killing machine to be ordered about and sent on deadly missions, but a lover, to be cherished and to cherish in turn. This was the miracle his mate had performed for him.

His mate… this was the only thing he had not explained to her yet. But he would, soon, he silently promised to the woman now sleeping in his arms.

.

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End notes

_Holy Ghost_ is the archaic version of Holy Spirit, the Trinity's third Person. Being Italian Alina would call it Spirito Santo, but since she is medieval and speaking English here…

_My alpha and my omega_. The first and last letter of the Greek alphabet were used - often in a religious or mystic sense - to indicate the beginning and the end.

The sideless surcoat was a classic piece of medieval garb. It was worn by women in the 13th and 14th centuries, and could be layered over either a fitted gown or tunic dress. It would be comfortable enough to ride sidesaddle.


	21. Chapter 21 Now and forever

**The Pilgrimage by Camilla 10**

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Chapter 21 - Now and forever

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A/N, This is the last chapter of The Pilgrimage, but a 'surprise' epilogue will follow. I'll post it after September 3rd.

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_A Venetian galley – somewhere in the Mediterranean_

**(Alina)**

The galley had a voice. She croaked and groaned as she cut through the waves. Alina discovered that she had sea legs; she never felt sick, while other passengers were saying goodbye to their meals over the ship's broadsides. The night before there had been a storm and she had been afraid, but Adso had laughed.

"I won't let you drown, my love, fear not. You are safe with me. But the ship is built to withstand storms, so you are doubly safe.

In Naples they stopped for two days and Adso went hunting. In the end, not wanting to go too far from the docks, he had to feed on two sheep. He told Alina how he tracked back the shepherds' hut, and left a silver coin.

"I am done with stealing," he said, "as much as with killing, if I can help it at all. In any case, the sheep's taste was quite… unappealing. Wild animals are much better."

Alina found it wonderful that he could be at ease with her, talking about how different types of blood tasted. In his surrender to love he had gotten free of shame, apparently. Since she had seen him at his worst and had accepted him, he was at last accepting himself. His next words, on a completely different note, utterly surprised her.

"We have enough gold and silver, but it will not last forever. I will have to work." Then, seeing her bewildered expression:

"Well, love, I have thought about it at great length. When you sleep, I watch you and try to plan for the future." Here he paused, a flicker of sadness on his face, but he hastened to continue:

"I think I can become a fur merchant. I worked for one, when I was human, and I still retain most of what I learned from my master. The added benefit is that I will not need to buy the pelts. I can hunt the animals myself." His strong white teeth flashed in a smile as he added:

"Of course I won't drink from marmots or ermines, foxes or sables, they are too small to satisfy me and my teeth would ruin their value. I'll hunt them when I have already fed and just break their necks. It will be a challenge to catch small animals, but I'll learn." He looked quite elated by the prospect and Alina found it both endearing and revealing.

She realized that Adso was… pragmatic. Yes, that was the word. He looked at things head-on and didn't shun reality. She felt sure he would address the enormous difficulties that loomed on their horizon and tackle them, one after the other. From her, he had needed only the reassurance that she would stay with him. Once he got that, he was like a battering ram and she could bask in his strength and sense of purpose.

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_Aquileia, a few weeks later_

**(Alina)**

In Venice they made a short stop to buy clothes - now Alina had both male and female attire at her disposal – their story being that they were meant for Adso's intended, who was soon to join the two "brothers".

Then they had moved to Aquileia. Adso had lived there previously, but not for long. Now, after more than forty years and the pestilence, he was quite certain no one was left to remember his human face. And, even if there were some hardy and lucky survivors of a generation ago, who would have given more than a passing glance to a lowly handyman back then?

The fur merchant Adso had served was long dead, of course. His son, a boy at the time of that fateful journey into the Balkans, had continued his father's activity, but the Black Death had taken him when it had swept through the region. The son's widow had neither the interest nor the capability to manage her husband's business and only wished to go and live with her surviving child, a daughter who had married a grain merchant of Udine.

In short, as was the case of many other enterprises after the plague, the merchant's was for sale and could be had for a song, so Adso bought it lock, stock and barrel: his warehouse here in Aquileia, the laboratory to cure the pelts and even the partnerships established in Istria and beyond.

He set immediately to work, found a house for them to live in – so many buildings were empty and cheap to buy – and went into the surrounding mountains to hunt and replenish the stocks.

In the meanwhile Alina paraded around in feminine garments, establishing herself as a woman again, because the priest of an impoverished parish had been contacted and they were going to be married, with the fake names of Lina de' Lanieri and Aligi Adler. The fact that Adso had adopted the name she had chosen for her disguise moved her deeply. The ceremony was going to be a subdued affair: early morning and just them, the priest and two last minute witnesses.

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_Aquileia, two days after the wedding_

**(Alina)**

Yesterday, yesterday everything changed and now she finally understood what she was to him, what he craved, and what he feared.

_Last night…_

_Her husband was buried deep inside her, his hands tangled in her locks – they were longer now – his mouth covering her face and throat with fierce kisses. His passion was raw and matched hers, as she dug her heels into his hard thighs and welcomed his thrusts with her own. And yet, she knew that what she was experiencing represented only a minimal part of the strength he could muster. No matter, because what they had was enough, for her and for him, they were unraveling, she arched, she clenched and came undone while he shuddered and cried on her skin, guttural sounds which, as he calmed, became words:_

"_Alina… love… my wife, my mate… forever."_

She must have slept a little. When she awakened he was watching her, stretched at her side, a cool flank touching hers, so pleasant, since the weather was still hot.

"Adso," she asked – as in their bed they retained their true names - "You called me _mate_. What does it mean?"

He was silent for a long time, as if searching for words, then he exhaled and answered:

"Some vampires, when they find their companion, mate for the eternity. They will never want another, even if it happens that their beloved… ceases to exist." And here his voice faltered. Alina insisted on hearing more, though.

"And you think I am your mate … in this way?"

"I don't _think_. I know it."

"But I am not immortal as you are."

"No."

He didn't add anything else, while she was sure there was more to understand. _Think, Alina, think..._

"So what happens when a mate dies? When I'll die, as I must?"

Silence. Then, soft as a suspire:

"I shall follow you."

Dismayed, Alina stifled a cry. No, no, it was not possible; she wouldn't be the cause of ... and anyway, how…

But she couldn't even ask more questions, because she was crying. It was not that she was afraid of death, not too much, at least, but to think that her death would cause his own was horrible and left her desolate.

Adso crushed her to his breast.

"It is not something that was much spoken about in the coven I belonged to. We are supposed to be immortal, after all. But I have seen a vampire who had lost his mate. He was one of the Volturi leaders, Marcus. I don't know how his wife died. They said she was killed by another coven the Volturi were fighting against, centuries ago. He did not kill himself, though, perhaps out of loyalty to the other two leaders, whom he calls brothers and who need his talent. But I know what I saw. He was broken, an empty shell, even after such a long time. I won't exist as he does."

"Mating is a curse, then!" Alina cried.

"No, it is the best thing that could have happened to me. The joy of loving in this way, and to be loved in return - there are no words to describe it. I have been blessed, Alina."

He was right. And, if the roles were reversed, and he were the one to die… what would happen to her? What would she do? It was impossible to contemplate, a never-ending pain, not to be borne. How could she live without him, now?

Her mind was rushing forward. She couldn't accept what he was saying and it seemed to her that there was only one thing that could dispel the nightmare into which she had been plunged."

"Then… then I must become immortal too. Change me, Adso. Make me as you are."

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_A valley on the Carnic Alps_

**(Alina)**

At first he refused even to consider the idea. He called it a monstrous act of selfishness on his part. He said that most likely vampires were damned. He tried to scare his wife with the description of the excruciating pain one had to endure during the metamorphosis, of the ferocious bloodlust that newborns experience …

To no avail: Alina wore him down. She believed that in the end she prevailed because, deep down, Adso wanted it too. It was his most shameful and most hidden desire, which he fiercely denied, but it was there. And he found it difficult to lie to her now, so eventually she cajoled the truth out of his lips.

Defeated, yet triumphant, he had then asked:

"Would you really do that for me, love? Despite everything? Despite what I told you?"

"I only want to be with you forever," Alina had said, as she said every time, now. Because – afraid though she was of the great unknowns that such choice represented, of all its implications - it was still the only possible choice.

And so, having set his affairs in order, having found an overseer and announced they were bound for a long pilgrimage, as they had made a vow – and the irony of it was not lost on either of them - they had left Aquileia and came to this valley or, rather, Adso carried her here, where, for the umpteenth time, he asked:

"Are you sure, Alina? We can go back, if you want. Only if you are sure…"

She was sure of nothing but one thing. A mortal human and a vampire could not go on for too long. He was scared of her frailty; she was scared of what he would do if some accident befell her.

Even the most mundane things pertaining to her humanity created problems. Her mate was afraid of leaving her alone at home. And yet she had to stay alone, because they couldn't easily have live in servants, given the secret of his nature. The charwoman who came occasionally and was honest, one day told Alina that her son had overhead some brash young men discussing her in a tavern. As the husband was often absent on his business, maybe the pretty wife was in need of company… they were setting up an action plan to sneak into her house. Very worried, she'd had to tell Adso and a few days later she heard from the charwoman that the same men were now nursing a few broken limbs, with dalliances very far from their minds, at least for the time being. Nobody knew who attacked them in a dark alley, and there were many irate husbands and fathers who could have done the deed. But Alina knew better and it was unacceptable.

So, she said she was sure.

The valley where Alina's human life would end was unpopulated and practically inaccessible. Adso had discovered it earlier while hunting. Wild animals were plentiful and it held more than one dry cave they could use. In fact one of those had belonged to a bear, but now the bear was no more. Within it Adso had already prepared some furs to lie on - the bear's included - and a few other implements and necessities.

Despite the altitude the temperature was pleasant. It was a wonderful sunny day, the fall colors breathtaking under the sun, the snow high on the peaks, the sky blue.

Now that all was decided, there was no hurry. Adso hunted a hare for his wife, skinned and roasted it, and that was her last meal, washed down with red wine.

Then the furs welcomed them as they embraced.

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**(Adso)**

_Sleep, beloved, sleep, because it is the last time you shall do so. When you awaken I'll taste your blood and I'll make you mine forever.**"Thou hast prepared a table before me against them that afflict me. Thou hast anointed my head with oil; and my cup runneth over." **_

The Psalm resonated in his head; how was it possible that he was given everything he could ever desire? He didn't deserve it, didn't deserve such happiness. And now Alina had to suffer for him and be the last of his human victims. He would try to help, to ease the burning with the snow he would gather, he would speak to her, he would sing to her… but it was not going to be enough, he knew.

_Listen, God, protect her, so that bloodlust doesn't overtake me. I must be strong and steady, for her. I promise that it is the last time ever that I'll taste human blood, and I swear I'll help Alina not to become a monster like I was. I know she won't, though, for she is stronger than I, and her soul doesn't know evil … she is loving and brave, she is everything I could have dreamed of, if I could dream. And now she will be given to me forever…_

_God, if you are really there and are hearing my words, I know I am unworthy of Your Grace. Nevertheless I do humbly thank You for my blessings. Truly You have shown me mercy, and I hope to have a second chance to serve You. I do not know of any way that I can atone for all my sins, but I have thought of something that I could do which would indirectly redress… the wrong I have done. It is not much, and it is surely not sufficient but, with Your help, I would like to try..._

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Endnotes

Well, that's it. Ready for the Epilogue that will tell us what Adso will do? Did you like The Pilgrimage?

The fur animals Adso would likely find near Aquileia and on the Alps were wild rabbits and hares, marmots (a marmot is similar to the American woodchuck), foxes and lynxes, martens, rare ermines, wolves and bears, while for sables he would need to go much farther.

Personally I don't wear furs, although I do eat meat. But of course in the Middle Ages the bias against furs had a few centuries to wait, before it was felt. However, fur making was and still is not a pleasant process to describe, and I decided that I was not going into it, to explain how Adso organized his business.

Lina _de' Lanieri _hints to wool making in Italian, a hidden reference to Alina's father, while the Germanic surname Adler – Adso is from South Tyrol – means eagle, a beautiful mountain predator as he is.

The unpopulated valley where Adso brings Alina for her change is imaginary, but inspired by the Sauris Valley, an incredibly secluded place in the Carnic Alps (Present day Region of Friuli-Venezia Giulia). Till 1930 communication with the outside world was assured only by paths and, later, by a tortuous carriageway, usable only in the summer. Sauris, in the German dialect Zahre, is the highest village of the region, surrounded by a circle of mountains that accentuate its mysterious isolation. Had it been populated after 1350, it would have been the ideal location for Alina's newborn stage. Unfortunately for my plot, it had been settled from the last quarter of the 13th century already, by a community speaking an Old German language, coming most probably from Carinzia (Austria).


	22. Chapter 22 Epilogue

**The Pilgrimage by Camilla 10**

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A/N Indeed, a change of scenery … and of date!

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Chapter 22 – Epilogue

_After seven centuries - Forks_

**(Rosalie)**

Bride and groom had gone, incredibly happy - deliriously so - that even Rosalie's selfish heart had mellowed today. Carlisle and Esme were saying goodbye to the now departing human guests, while Jasper and Emmett were still keeping watch on the house's perimeter, making sure that the damn dogs had also left. For good, hopefully.

"Jazz, Em, you can come back, I don't have black holes in my vision and I See Edward and Bella taking their plane with no problems. The wolves are not coming back, nor are they going to Seattle. All is well," Alice said at vampire speed.

Soon after, a still sniffling Renee left too, with her husband in tow, and so did Charlie Swan. Freed from the need to keep up appearances, the house and garden became a flurry of extremely fast activity as the vampires put everything in order, piling neatly the caterer's belongings, which would be picked up tomorrow.

After such a long time in the company of humans and their enticing smell, the Cullens and the Denalis decided to go for a quick hunt. They all left, separating in small groups.

Instead of going with Emmett, though, Rosalie went with Tanya, after they had changed from formal dress to jeans. Pity was not a feeling she entertained often, but today she pitied the Alaskan vampire. Her passion for Edward had been genuine, Rosalie believed, and seeing him marrying another - a human at that - and having to put a brave face on it, must have been harrowing. Still, Bella was Edward's mate; Rosalie accepted that now, as well as the fact that Bella would, quite soon, become a vampire too.

Fated, some things are fated, and you have to deal with them, much as the love story between her brother and the human girl had irked her, at the beginning. To think that Bella could have a baby but said she was not interested in having one, never ceased to puzzle Rosalie. She would have done anything to have what her immutable body precluded forever. Still, her new sister had made her choice…

Having quickly disposed of a couple of uninteresting deer (but Rosalie took blood because she had to, not because she particularly liked it, and she felt that her friend shared the indifference, at least today), they perched companionably on two low branches of a tree.

Hoping to distract Tanya and to avoid the Edward issue, she finally asked, with her usual bluntness:

"How did you became a vegetarian, Tanya? You weren't one, at the beginning, I understand."

Tanya, however, was unfazed. She took no offence to such a personal question.

"Indeed I was not… I am a succubus, as you know. I seduced human males and killed them. It was my nature and I didn't know any better."

"So, how did it happen?" Rosalie was really curious: she and most members of their family had been changed by Carlisle, who had discovered by himself the possibility of abstaining from human blood, and taught it to the members of his coven, a rarity among vampires.

As Tanya was taking her time answering, Rosalie wondered if she had blundered into something very private, but finally the other vampire spoke.

"You are bringing me back to a very distant past and to the worst night of my existence. The one when my maker, Sasha, was executed by the Volturi, along with her little…" Here Tanya voice broke.

"I am sorry, I should not have asked…"

"No Rose, it's OK. It was also the night I did something good, unwittingly, unintentionally, and, because of that, I was rewarded beyond my expectations, many years later… That story I can tell you. My sisters know, of course, as it affected them too, eventually, but I didn't tell anybody else, not even Carlisle knows the details. When we met for the first time he was travelling, but still residing with the Volturi, and I didn't think it wise to tell him, lest Aro read him, for any reason. Then it never came up again. But now, if you wish, I'll tell you."

Rosalie nodded eagerly. Imagine, to learn of something that even Carlisle, who knew everything, didn't know …

Tanya resumed her tale:

"My coven was spending time in the Balkans and one night I was hunting in my particular way. In a tavern I noticed a very handsome human, exactly the kind I liked, and I decided to have him. He was young, strong and… a virgin, I later discovered. Delightful. So I had him and he pleasured me to no ends. He was so lovely that I felt a pang of regret, when the time came to assuage my thirst, but the call of his blood was impossible to resist. However, I didn't manage to drain him completely, because Irina came for me, crying that Sasha was in mortal danger. She told me to kill the human and follow her. I should have snapped his neck then… but I couldn't do it. So I left him alive and ran after my sister.

"Well, the tragedy that followed and the despair in which my sisters and I found ourselves made me almost forget that encounter. Later on, I wondered fleetingly if the man had died from the blood loss or if I had turned him. Another crime, according to the Volturi law, because a Dam is supposed to take care of her newborn, lest he kills indiscriminately and gives the secret away. But I had left the Balkans with my sisters and did not want to go back there. We returned to our land of origin, Russia, and decades passed.

Here Tanya stopped speaking, her eyes unfocussed, probably remembering the long, somewhat bleak years of her long existence. Rosalie was mated, and that helped her to endure a life she disliked. She certainly did not envy the Alaskan vampire. The forest's noises reasserted themselves till the cry of a night bird roused Tanya from her reverie.

"Something had happened to me, however," she said. "I still hunted men, of course, but sometimes – not always - I let my lovers live, and drank from strangers. As for my sisters, they occasionally took vampire lovers, and hunted with them. In fact I was alone in our isba when two visitors came.

"One was him, the man I had seduced and turned that night in the Balkans. His name, he told me, was Adso, and he was with his mate, a young vampire called Alina. She still had the red eyes of newborns, while seeming well in control of herself. But what surprised me completely were **his** eyes. They were the color of amber, not the dark, almost black, red of mature vampires."

"A vegetarian!" exclaimed Rosalie.

"Yes, the first one I ever saw. At the beginning I did not understand what he wanted. He said he had been looking for me and I was scared. If he was looking for revenge it was one against two, and I would have been overcome."

Rosalie understood revenge. In fact, those who had caused her to become a vampire (not counting Carlisle, who had only wanted to save her), had not survived. But, evidently, this was not the case, because Tanya added:

"Adso was not vengeful, though. In a strange way he was even grateful:

'If you had not turned me I would never have met Alina,' he said, 'and, while I reviled your name for decades, the fact remains that you did not kill me.'

"He told me," Tanya continued, " what had happened to him afterward. He joined the Volturi and became one of their Lures, diverting pilgrims, not tourists, like it happens now, of course. In the fourteenth century the coven members were impersonating monks, with Aro as their Abbot, imagine."

Indeed, what a story! Rosalie was enthralled.

"Well, Adso was leading one of those pilgrimages when his existence changed completely. He met his mate – she was still human then. And, in a chance encounter with a nomad, he learned that we could live on animal blood. This revelation came to him at exactly the right time. He hated what he was doing more and more every day, and so he changed. He took his leave from the Volturi – how he accomplished it I do not know, because he never said it and I did not insist on knowing – and left them. His mate's was the last human blood he drank, and he did it only to change her, something she wanted."

"But why did he look for you? What was his reason?" asked Rosalie.

"To tell me that it was possible to abstain from killing men, what else? And, unwittingly, he had found me exactly when I was ready for it. As I didn't kill all my lovers the first time I went with them, I had longer relationships, sometime. Therefore I came to know humans better and the need to feed from them was troubling me. I had been wondering if I could change my habits and, on learning it was possible, I embraced the animal diet and never looked back. Eventually I convinced my sisters to do the same, and here we are, almost seven centuries after.

"His reason, you ask? He never told me, but Alina did, a moment we were alone before their departure:

'Adso wants to atone for all the murders he has committed,' she told me. 'After a while he decided that instead of self-flagellating he should try and convince another vampire to change like he had. He could not bring back to life his victims, but he could spare the life of future ones. And then he thought of you, Tanya. He believed that, as his Maker, you would be more responsive than others, and he was right, I think.'

"You, see, Rosalie, Adso was – still is probably, as I have no reason to believe he is dead – a deeply religious person. He was a novice in a monastery before becoming a vampire. When I met him he was no longer in the cloister, but he had left it because he was disgusted with the Church, not because he had completely lost his faith.

"So, another vegetarian, and another vampire of faith. Carlisle would love so much to meet him," Rosalie mused.

"He would go by another name now, not Adso, because he would fear the Volturi, and in general he never kept the company of vampires. I have not met him again, and I have no idea in what part of the world he is now. Sometimes – and this happens more frequently in the mass communication society - I find a bit of information which makes me wonder if it is about him, but I am not sure…

Tanya hopped out of the tree and stretched daintily.

"But you are right, you know, Rose. It would be fantastic if he and Carlisle could meet. Who knows, maybe it will happen, one day...

A little later the two vampires heard the others coming back and joined them, returning to the Cullen's home.

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**The End**

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End notes

Yes, The Pilgrimage ends here, but I have the feeling that Carlisle and Adso will indeed meet, in a not too distant future. When I have figured it out I hope to write an outtake and tell my readers about this momentous meeting. I'll not mark the story complete till then.

I have to thank again all the people who joined the pilgrimage and walked with me: In Italy they are: Raum, who pre-read, helped me with all the images I posted elsewhere and edited the Italian version, and my husband, who hates vampires, but still gives me historical tutoring, when needed. Over the Ocean my thanks go to Aleea b4u, Maniac Motherland, Serendipitous, Miaokuancha and JMolly. Do check their stories out. My incomparable final editor is Stefanie, The Hobbit Ivy. And thanks to those who read, despite The Pilgrimage has no Edward and Bella in it, and to those who reviewed. Your comments made me very happy. In this sense I have heartfelt gratitude for Lissa Bryan, TwiLoverSue and Lion in the Land.


End file.
